#but I hope he wasn’t too disappointed after I grinned at him for his politeness and walked away

[earthwormspaghetti]

Reminds me of a “haunted Dracula room” experience in Romania, at Vlad Dracul’s birthplace. The restaurant that was housed in the building in which he was born had a top section with a creepy experience. After we had an amazing meal at the restaurant in the family, I was sent upstairs with some cash to pay, to see whether it was worthwhile. I was fully and entirely on board.

Now, when one entered, one was faced with a wall, on which a wolf pelt was hung and in front of which there was a desk. One the one side was a piano.

I proceeded, turning the corner to see a large-ish room with creaky floorboards and a couch with a bloody-necked mannequin on it. In the centre of the room was a coffin.

That coffin held a man, dressed up in fancy clothes and wearing the flattest, shiniest Dracula mask I’d ever seen.

He sat up and shouted, abruptly. I proceeded to come to the conclusion that he was somehow an employee that was doing something to do with maintenance (which, as he was an employee, only part of that was true), and turned the corner to leave him to work in peace, not after apologising cheerfully.

I then came to my senses and returned, prompting the poor man to give the most confused, tired “boo” that I can imagine can be uttered by any mortal soul. He quite eloquently said it, as if reading the letters off of a paper, in a fashion that one would speak about the news.

I tried to mime being able to take a photograph, because he spoke no languages I understood, and I didn’t know Hungarian or Romanian. He appeared bewildered and sort of just looked at me from underneath his It’s A Small World type mask.

I left with pictures to show to the people who wanted to see what the place looked like on the inside.

[r1elle]

desperate male lead syndrome is making a strong comeback in 2024 and i’m here for it!! so i wrote about this annoying loser (your honour i love him so much)

husband atsumu drabble because this is what the people want ^^ (i’m people)

“baby, don’t go looking at yer’ poor husband like that..” atsumu pouts, poking your cheeks at the sight of your evidently disdained face.

okay. you could go do that. you could also just forget the broken ceramic on the floor, still not cleaned up because atsumu would rather make amends with you first than cleaning up the potential risk that was right infront of you both.

honestly, you couldn’t tell whether you should be glad, or concerned.

“i’m not mad at you,’ you say, the expression on your face clearly betraying your words. “don’t worry about it, atsumu.”

you thought that maybe your words would ease the blonde man’s resolve, however it seemed to have only made it worse for him.

“atsumu?! no baby, no love, no ‘tsumu?!” he stresses, hands going up to his mouth.

you stare at his rather dramatic delivery,—and was that the life in his eyes flying away?? he looks like a modern rendition of casper the ghost.

“i’ll do the dishes for a week, no,—a month! i’ll buy ya’ those heels ya’ told me not to buy at the mall!!” atsumu frantically spouts, saying anything he could think of as he continues to cling onto your figure, his face mushing onto your neck and shoulder area.

you shut your eyes. just.. how could you stay annoyed? look at his pouty face, how his ears seemed to be more red than the rest of his skins current complexion. he practically made it impossible for you to even be the least bit mad, and you would’ve felt as guilty as a convict for even attempting to do so. that’s the kind of effect he had on you.

in response, you merely sigh. but there wasn’t any bark to it. “or, you could clean up the shattered pot on the floor.” you say, making sure to bring your tone to a more gentle and reassuring one.

atsumu turns to at you once again, his blonde locks tickling your skin as he moves.

“yer’ not mad anymore?” he beams. “i mean, we could always make another pot, right? how ‘bout it?” he says, hopeful eyes staring directly to your orbs.

in all realness, you genuinely weren’t mad at him, —(as much as he would sulk and say you definitely were), no. you were just sad at the fact that you and atsumu’s ceramic that you both had worked so hard to sculpt and paint on your first date was now shattered on the floor, all but beyond repair.

“i was never mad at you, promise.” you say. “just a bit disappointed. i liked that pot a lot, you know.” your hand reaches for atsumu’s cheek, pinching it slightly. physical touch always seemed to reassure him more than anything else.

atsumu mentally notes that he should make you breakfast in bed the following morning as he stares at your affirming expression. he plants various of pecks on your face after doing so.

“i’m sorry, princess.” atsumu coo’s, his hand pushing away the little hairs on your forehead as he plants a kiss on it.

“i’ll make it up to ya’, i promise.”

— • —

now, you know that you most definitely shouldn’t be all too surprised, considering that, well, —this was miya atsumu we were talking about,

but seriously….

you stare at the little bundle of fur politely sitting on your lap as you rub your eyes, just having come out of your nights sleep. you also happen to notice the smell of pancakes and hot chocolate coming from the bedside table.

“ ‘tsumu, where—?..no, when did you get this dog?”

“i have my ways.” he proudly grins. “but look, it’s yer’ favourite breed!”

“….yes, i know. but where did you—“

“we have a daughter now, hehe.”

“since when did i agre—“

“so adorable, definitely takes after her mommy and daddy. look at the bow on her head!”

“ ‘tsum-“

“i love you.”

“dont change the subject!”

——————————————————————————

atsumu brainrot is real and clocking me out (kageyama i can explain)

update: TYSM for 1k+ notes omg ??!! thank u all for loving this loserboy with me i feel so heard 😢😢🙏🏽

[jamespotterismydaddy]

Lord Husband (Chapter 1)

Cregan x reader

A/N: this is just gonna be a miniseries methinks

word count: 1,171

Next chapter

Series Masterlist

“You look like an angel, my love.” Rhaenyra says as the handmaidens pin back your hair but you don’t feel like an angel; you feel like a pawn.

You have been meeting with suitors for nearly four moons and none have seemed to be good enough for you. Lannisters are too proud, Tullys bore you, and you can’t stand a single person with the name Baratheon. Your mother said that she was showing you a great kindness in allowing you to choose, a kindness that she didn’t appreciate enough when the young queen had the chance. You don’t care. You know you are just like she was when she was younger. You often wear that with pride but you know what it means in this scenario. You’re ‘too stubborn to appreciate what has been given to you’. Rhaenyra gave you the opportunity but she was no longer patient. A husband had to be chosen.

“Winterfell is very far.” Is all you say in response.

“Lord Stark is a good man. I would not have chosen him for you if I wasn’t sure of it.” She presses a kiss to the side of your head. “Just walk through the gardens with him. Get to know the man who will be your husband.” She pets your hair in a loving manner. You can’t seem to understand that she would only have the best for you, her only daughter.

You have yet to meet Cregan Stark but you already hate him, your betrothed, the man who will whisk you away from your family to the cold North. You resent the freedoms he is taking from you. You resent being separated from your family. You resent everything about him.

“He will treat you well, sweet girl. I know it.” You stand up now, wrapped in a silk gown and decorated with jewellery like a lovely little present for him. When you get to the gardens, he is already waiting for you with a blinding smile on his face. You have to admit that he is incredibly handsome. He is tall and his physique looks strong from years of training with the sword. A real Northern man.

“Princess, it is my pleasure to meet you. Our engagement brings great honour to my house.” He walks over to stand in front of you and you let him take your hand up for a kiss, fighting the urge to roll your eyes.

“Lord Stark.” Your voice is cold which seems to surprise him ever so slightly. You don’t give him a chance to say much else as you begin to walk through the gardens, leaving him in your dust. He looks at you in a bit of a stupor before quickly following after his pretty betrothed. 

“Would you like to take my arm, princess?” He politely offers his right arm to you. How proper.

“No.” You say simply as he speeds up a bit to stay in step with you.

“No?” He looks a little confused but chalks it up to teenage girls being a little strange. You give him no other response so he makes another attempt at conversation. “Have you ever visited Winterfell?”

“No.” He awaits to hear a sentiment of your excitement to see it soon but is disappointed when none comes.

“I am sure you will love it. It’s beautiful when there's a fresh dusting of snow on the ground. I’d say it’s the greatest place in all of Westeros but I suppose i’m biased.” He grins, mostly to himself, and then looks at you, hopeful for more of a response.

“Hmm.”  Is all you offer as a reply. Cregan finds himself dejected at his future wife’s lack of interest and he tries his best to shake it off.

“It does get cold of course but you’ll be more than warm enough in the castle. Most actually find it very cozy.” He gives you another smile that likely has most women melting in a puddle at his feet. For some reason it just irritates you more.

“Dragons don’t do well in the cold.” Your curt reply makes him cringe. He can’t understand what has given you such a sense of distaste towards him. Things are silent for a moment. He has no idea how to respond directly to your comment.

“Do you have any hobbies?” Another attempt it seems. The question makes you sigh. What a boring change of subject. 

“We don’t really need to speak.” You shock him with your words, with your bratty attitude. He’d expected you to be entitled but he didn’t expect you to be outright rude. He is a lord after all, the Warden of the North. He deserves some sense of courtesy from you.

“That is going to be difficult seeing as how we are to be wed.” He scoffs and you begin to fiddle with the rings that decorate your fingers.

“The only thing you need from me in this marriage is to fill my belly with your heirs.” You say. You know it’s harsh but it isn’t necessarily untrue. He seems to be taken aback slightly by your words.

“You don’t wish to get to know the man you’re going to marry?” He asks in disbelief. He seems like a romantic. You didn’t think people of nobility were allowed to be romantics. Though, simply knowing your husband better is a sad definition of romanticism.

“You ask many questions.” You roll your eyes and he does his best to hold his tongue and not say something stupid.

“And you answer practically none, princess.” There was a bit of bite in his words. He clearly believes that you’re acting like a spoilt child. 

Awkward silence fills the space between you both. You wonder if he may apologise to you and he earns a bit more of your respect because he doesn’t. It’s quiet for quite some time and you try to walk faster so that you may get to the end of the gardens before he tries to make conversation again. He never does and it isn’t long before the promenade comes to an untimely finish.

“Good day to you, my lord.” Poor Lord Stark looks like he’s rethinking all of his life choices when you say the words to him. What an ill fate for the man, marrying a cold Targaryen princess.

“To you as well, princess.” You don’t lift your hand up for him to kiss again and based on the fact that he looks like a kicked puppy, you know that he wanted to.

You leave quickly. You did your duty… technically. Your mother asked you to walk through the gardens with him and you did. Mayhaps you simply forgot about the getting to know him part. You wonder if he will retract his proposal, but who would ever retract a proposal to a princess? Maybe you’re delaying the inevitable, maybe you’re just full of old fashioned Targaryen spite but you have no wish to create a relationship with the man you’re meant to marry.

taglist(comment to be added): @valeskafics @girlwith-thepearlearring @darylandbethfanforever9 @lovellies

[qwimblenorrisstan]

The Clandestine Culinarian Pt. 2 | Azriel x Reader

Summary: After you’re introduced to his family and move into the House of Wind, you begin training with Azriel as a way to pass time and cope with your losses, but something unexpected happens, and a seed of jealousy begins blooming in another female’s heart.

Word Count: ~2.8k

Warnings: Mentions of blades, family deaths, itsy bitsy angst, nothing too bad.

A/N: I feel like this isn’t my best work but it pulled me out of writer’s block so whatever, lmk if you want a part three, hope you enjoy it <3

Requests are open!

Previous | Masterlist | Next

When you woke in the morning, Azriel was gone, probably off to his room, or house now that you thought of it.

You weren’t sure why you expected him to still be there, or why a little bit of you felt disappointed that he wasn’t.

Stumbling out of bed, you found some clothes in the closet that looked like they’d been borrowed from you for the time being, a few dresses and some pairs of tunics and pants. You ended up putting on a simple romper that went down just above your kneecap, a light flowery purple. Your niece would’ve liked it, you thought.

Miraculously, there were fresh toiletries and supplies in the bathroom, and so you brushed your teeth so hard your gums bled, and pulled a brush through your unruly hair until it finally settled down a bit.

After what felt like an hour of trying to smooth down the loose ends, you gave an exasperated sigh and moved on to slip some shoes on your feet. When you were finally all dressed and ready, you looked in the bathroom mirror at your reflection.

You looked…fine. Not overly bad, but the lasting effects of your grief were still obvious in the slight redness of your eyes, or the hint of puffiness in your cheeks where tears had rolled down the night before.

“I’m going to be fine.”

You murmured to yourself while staring into the mirror. You were upset and sad and angry, but the world didn’t stop, and neither could you.

“Y’know, usually when I want to feel good about myself I just go flirt with the ladies, but to each their own-“

A low, brusque but amused voice drawled from the doorframe, making you jump and spin to face him, one hand over your now-racing heart.

“Mother above, you scared me!”

You said, sighing and shaking your head before looking up at the stranger.

Not exactly a stranger, you reminded yourself. The General. You could recognize him almost immediately, his large muscular body, the stubble on his face, and his golden hazel eyes, not to mention the dark black hair that was tied back in a man-bun right now.

He only chuckled at your fright, giving you nothing short of an idiotic grin. A hint of sympathy was behind those eyes, you thought.

“So you’re the lady friend Az brought, huh? Welcome to the family, then.”

He said, not elaborating any further as he slung his large arm around your shoulder and began guiding you out of your room, into what seemed like a dining room. A glimmer of something knowing also lurked in his eyes.

The High Lady, Feyre sat down in one of the chairs, Nyx bouncing on her knee and eagerly shoving a piece of bacon down his throat while Rhys watched and snorted in amusement. Another female, Elain, was in the kitchen, cooking up a large breakfast for the entire family and seeming happy while doing it. Nesta seemed to be helping if only to have a taste of the bacon while it was still steaming hot how she liked it.

“Go have a seat, I’ll have our Elain make you a plate.”

He said, releasing you from his grasp if only to push you towards the table. Before you could manage thanks, he’d already strode off into the kitchen, arms wrapped around Nesta’s waist as he pressed little kisses into her neck from behind.

You hesitantly sat down in one of the chairs, feeling a bit out of place in this family’s home. Feyre and Rhys both glanced up at you, sharing a glance between themselves before she gave a polite nod and warm smile, going back to feeding Nyx.

“Ah. I hope you slept well, at least. Breakfast will be ready in a few minutes.”

Rhys said, still glancing over at Nyx and quietly snickering before turning his full attention to you. As you opened your mouth to speak, his expression turned a bit serious, making you pause a moment.

“I hate to tell you like this, but because of the…business, you and your family were running, nothing can be held against Kier or his men. I’m truly sorry I can’t-“

“You don’t have anything to be sorry for.”

You cut him off, feeling bad for it but then going on, watching as his violet eyes almost widened. You knew that nothing could be done from the moment Kier’s men had stormed into the bakery. There was nothing Rhys could’ve done to save them, and nothing you could’ve done either, other than shutting down the business.

“You’re already letting me stay in your home, with your family, and providing for me, so please, don’t apologize for anything.”

You finished. He paused a moment, before giving a slight dip of his head as a nod, that he wouldn’t do it again despite what he might believe.

Elain and Nesta came out, plates in their hands while Cassian trailed behind with another few in his, and they passed them out to everyone, including you. It was a healthy variety of normal breakfast foods, scrambled eggs, toast, bacon, hash browns, etc.

They all sat down and began digging in while talking, and you weren’t about to not follow their example.

“I forget how much of a bitch cooking can be,”

Nesta said, before taking a bite of toast.

“Yeah, guess we are a bit spoiled back home, huh? Living in a sentient House and all.”

Cassian said with that big idiotic grin, nudging her with his elbow as he swallowed. That comment alone made you swirl with questions.

“Sentient House?”

You asked, raising a brow. That only made Rhys chuckle and shake his head.

“Yes, Cassian and Nesta live in the House of Wind. It’s a sentient home right off of Velaris, on the border almost.”

He replied, a smirk on his lips.

“Don’t forget Az, he’s quiet but he can be a menace when he wants to be.”

Cassian said with his mouth full. Nesta rolled her eyes and swatted him for talking with his mouth full, at which he dramatically acted like he’d suffered a fatal wound.

“You don’t know the half of it. Once he rearranged my entire personal bookshelf in reverse alphabetical order. It took me an entire day just to sort them back out.”

She said, huffing just at the memory alone. You couldn’t help the little bit of genuine laughter that escaped your lips from that.

“What did you do to piss him off that bad?”

You then asked, and Nesta smirked, clearly enjoying thinking about what she'd done to poor Azriel.

“I gave them some money and told them to go have fun. They ended up winning a jackpot that Azriel had to go claim the money for. You should’ve seen the owner’s face when he realized that the shadows had won, I don’t think the shadowsinger has set foot in that place since.”

She said, and Cassian began laughing at that alone, while Rhys and Feyre snickered, and Nyx began giggling and babbling over a hash brown. Cassian’s face went thoughtful for a moment before he glanced up at you.

“You know, you could start training with Az maybe. It’s sort of a custom for our newcomers to start training.”

He said, glancing at Feyre and then at Nesta, who both raised a brow at him. Elain then spoke up.

“He’s always on missions, though. Wouldn’t the inconsistency make it useless?”

She asked in that annoyingly innocent tone, almost like she was a child trying to please their mother with how dainty and sweet they were. You didn’t know why it annoyed you as much as it did, the fact that she knew his schedule, and was actively discouraging you from spending time with him.

“He’s not on too many, things have settled down since the war ended. I think it could help keep your mind off things, too.”

Rhys said with a little nod as if confirming this.

“It’d be more practical if you moved to the House, then. It gets a bit too quiet sometimes, so we wouldn’t mind.”

Nesta said with a shrug, studying you intently for a moment before going back to eating her breakfast, halfway on Cassian’s lap already.

“I’ll ask Az after breakfast, I’m sure he won’t mind.”

Cassian said, before shoving another mouthful of fried egg in his mouth, at which Nesta cringed and gave him a look, playfully disgusted.

*********************************************************

“You want me to what?”

“Train her, just in the mornings like what I do with Nesta and her friends. It'll get her mind off of things.”

“Cassian, you know that I can't commit to that with my work-”

“I think you're just scared of females.”

Cassian retorted, in the most serious tone he could manage while Azriel gave him an incredulous look, annoyed.

“I am not scared of females.”

He said firmly, glaring at his brother.

“Oh yeah? When's the last time you've had a hookup?”

Azriel’s mind went frustratingly blank at that. He huffed, before replying.

“I don't see how that's relevant.”

Cassian let out a hoot of laughter, only making the crimson blush creeping up Azriel’s neck progress further.

“See? You are scared of females. Are your nightmares haunted by the sight of pussy?”

Cassian said, making his voice quiver on purpose with his last sentence, making a little ‘oooooh’ sound as if a ghost were haunting Azriel. Azriel only scoffed, shaking his head.

“Fine. I'll train her if you'll stop tormenting me.”

He said, a begrudging resignation in his usually firm and cold tone. Cassian gave a grin of triumph, clapping his brother on the back as he walked past him.

“Good. Treat her well, she's been through a lot.”

He said, before walking out and leaving Azriel alone in the cold office he owned in the House of Wind.

*********************************************************

He seemed to have snuck into your life much faster than you'd expected him to.

You’d moved into the House of Wind, which hadn’t been difficult given your lack of actual things to pack and move, and very slowly adjusted to living in a sentient House.

It still scared the shit out of you when the bath would randomly start running at the perfect temperature, with all the oils you loved, at the exact time when you were thinking about how much you’d like a bath. Or the times when perfect meals would show up, both healthy and also satisfying your specific cravings, and how the House almost adjusted to fit your needs every time, providing you with everything you needed, clothes, entertainment, food, water, and more.

The training was a different subject, though.

You still could barely do the stretches Azriel tried to work you through. His lithe, muscular body could pull it off flawlessly, which you supposed was a given for someone who had centuries of practice and experience. Most of the time, it only succeeded in you being sore and aching in the mornings, and that was how it went for what felt like years, though only a month had passed.

There was one thing you particularly enjoyed about your training, though.

“Like this, your arm should be hooked around, but not depending on it too much..”

His voice was quiet but strong, confident, and sure as he always was in his silent way as he guided you. His own muscular body, donning no shirt, performed the same exercise you were supposed to be doing, and mimicking poorly.

You couldn’t help but be distracted by the winding tattoo that seemed almost alive as the rising sun cast an orange glow of light against his body, creating a perfect contrast and mixture with his already-tanned skin and midnight hair. Not to mention the light purple color that was projected onto the ground through the thinnest parts of his wing’s membrane, the sun casting light against it as well.

Azriel had grown closer to you in the month you’d been around him, and you’d noticed him observing you intently as if to catch every little habit and quirk about you. You’d been watching, too, seeing the way his fingers might twitch if exposed to the cold, or how his wings fluttered ever so slightly when a cool breeze went by, and all of the things he tried too hard to conceal and lock away.

“…”

You snapped out of it, seeing him watching you with a blank stare, only a glimmer of suspicion and curiosity in his dark hazel eyes.

“Sorry, I got distracted.”

You said, shaking your head to get yourself back into the headspace of training, where you could forget your grief and sadness, and become something new, something freer and unbound.

*********************************************************

Azriel knew he was pushing it when only one and a half months into your training he slowly began introducing you to swordplay.

He didn’t give you a real sword, over his dead body would he provide a real weapon to a beginner, you had to earn your steel, but for now he gave you a worn wooden one. The same one Nesta had used when Cassian had started training her.

You’d seemed unsure about it, but accepted it without complaint, as you seemed to do with most he did these days. He had caught himself several times, the lingering glances, his hands ‘accidentally’ brushing against your waist, the sparkling heat in his veins when he saw you in those tight Illyrian leathers, trying to obey him and go into the positions he showed you.

He was wondering if you’d caught him, though he already knew the answer.

It was nearly impossible to resist the urge when his shadows screamed and cried silently out for you when they tried to shove you two together and force him to confront you with his suppressed feelings and desires. He’d never felt them so strongly attached to someone other than himself before, and it made him a bit uneasy.

However, it all came to a climax when today, for what felt like the hundredth time, he knocked your wooden sword to the ground and had you pinned beneath his gaze, but this time, his sword against your neck, hands holding you down, something different happened.

*********************************************************

It felt like a warmth blooming throughout your entire body, as if someone had lit the butterflies in your stomach on fire and they were now exploding and popping, sending waves of heat and shock throughout your being. Though you didn’t know what was fully happening, your instincts did.

Azriel stumbled back as if he’d been hit, staring wide-eyed at you, and as you opened your mouth to speak he immediately disappeared in a flurry of shadows and darkness, winnowing somewhere.

Training was over for today, you assumed, as you tossed your wooden sword to the ground in the training ring and walked inside, trying to figure out what the hell had just happened, and why he’d seemed so utterly shocked.

You knew he had his eyes on Elain, helping her harden and cook and spending time with her and seeming all too happy about it while training with you seemed like pulling teeth to him.

You tried to shake it off as you headed back into your room to decompress in a hot bath.

*********************************************************

Mate.

The word had hit him like a brick at that moment, and the next thing he knew he was hiccuping and sobbing, mumbling out words to Rhys in his office.

His brother held him close, not questioning what he said for now and just listening.

“She’s my mate, Rhys, and I don’t even think she knows it, but I don’t..how am I going to tell her? She doesn’t want me-“

He’d sobbed into Rhys’ shoulder, his brother quietly shushing him. It had been too long since Azriel had cried, centuries almost, and this had just broken the dam and let the flood tear through his body. The shadows seemed agitated as they swirled around the room, poking and prodding at the furniture and whatnot.

“It’s okay, Az. One step at a time, just breathe, okay? Take a deep breath, and let’s calm down.”

Rhys said in the most soothing, soft tone he could manage, one usually only reserved for Nyx and sometimes Feyre if she was lucky.

However, unbeknownst to either of them, a third person listened in. A female who’d had her eyes on the shadowsinger longer than that new girl thrown into the mix. Elain Archeron believed she was a far better match for Azriel’s stoicism and reserved nature, only she should get the privilege of seeing behind those stone walls he’d built up. A feeling of twisted jealousy and possession curdling in her sweet, loving heart, unlike anything she’d felt before.

That new girl suddenly being Azriel’s mate? That wouldn’t do.

Not at all.

Tags:

@lilah-asteria

@evangeline-xo

@hayrunnwr

@rcarbo1

Part 3

[kingkatsuki]

— when he catches you crying

Masterlist.

Warnings: none (although not proofread soz.)

Pairing: Bakugou Katsuki x f!reader.

Word Count: 1.8k.

There were some days where being Dynamight’s secretary weren’t always perfect. Thousands of people online wished they could be where you are right now, a position that had you working closely with the number two hero, and of course you were thankful. But some days you just wished time would speed up and you could go home and climb into bed. Daydreaming about having some sort of time-changing quirk so you wouldn’t have to put up with those terrible work days, and instead speed through them.

Being the number two hero meant that he was constantly in demand. Whether it was companies trying to get ahold of him for collaborations, agencies hoping to get Dynamight to team up on missions, brand ambassadors trying to send him a slew of freebies from clothing to charcuterie boards or the media hoping to get the first scoop the phone was constantly ringing off the hook.

Luckily for you most of these calls were intercepted lower down, the Dynamight PR team were always quick to filter out the quality calls and give courteous, personalised responses each time. But that didn’t mean the ones that finally managed to reach your floor, his floor, were any kinder. Having a timed appointment call with the Pro didn’t actually mean you’d manage to get him on the line, as most people in the industry had now leaned Dynamight worked on his schedule, no one else’s. And most of the time callers were sympathetic to you, but not always.

You’d had to apologise to a brand for Dynamight being unavailable at the appointed time, a last minute meeting with Pro-Hero Hawks meant that he was now stuck inside his office for the foreseeable. Something that you knew irked Bakugou to no end, knowing he’d probably rather take this mundane call than spend more than five minutes alone with the feathered hero. But work was work, and while he was being supposedly tortured inside, you were now subject to a slew of insults on the phone with the head of the company.

Usually you’d just hang up at this point, the insults you faced not worth whatever price they were willing to pay for Dynamight’s face on their posters. But you were already having a bad day, and the words came hard and fast. No matter how polite you tried to be, they cut deep. Feeling your throat begin to tighten as pearly tears clung to your lash line, threatening to spill down your cheeks. You slammed the phone down in irritation as you pushed the chair back from your desk, leaving without another thought as you went to compose yourself in the bathroom.

It wasn’t long after that Bakugou stepped out of his office, noticing the disappointed look on Hawks face when he’d moved directly towards your desk to bid you a farewell (and probably flirt with you for the next fifteen minutes, Bakugou supposed), and noticed you were no longer there.

The phone sat ringing unanswered and you always told him when you were going on lunch or leaving the floor, even if it was just a sweet little email. Rolling his eyes at Hawks teasing when he noticed Bakugou’s expression diminish slightly too as he stepped into the elevator.

“That’s a shame, I was hoping to take her to lunch after our little meeting,” Hawks grinned, “Tell her I said goodbye, yeah?”

Fucking prick. Bakugou seethed as he went towards the end of the hall to ask one of your co-workers where you’d gone, hearing that you’d had a pretty shitty phone call and you’d made your way to the women’s bathrooms on the floor below.

Ignoring his schedule, he made his way towards the stairs. Retracing your footsteps as he found the door to the ladies restrooms and ignored the writing on the front as he shoved it open to step inside. Thankful that it seemed to be empty, aside from the muffled sobs coming from one of the stalls. A sound that seemingly quietened as the door opened, clearly trying to hide yourself away from anyone listening to you.

“Hey,” Bakugou knocked on the door lightly as he leaned against the door, his signature boots visible to you beneath as your eyes widened in surprise that your boss had found you like this, in the women’s bathroom no less.

“You shouldn’t be in here,” You sniffled, dabbing the paper tissue against your wet cheeks, “It’s the womens—”

“Yeah, I fuckin’ know.” His voice came out rougher than he’d intended, the sound had fresh tears welling in your eyes as you thought you’d upset him even more by leaving your desk unmanned.

“I’ll be back up in a sec, I’m sorry for leaving the phone ringing I’ll—” Your throat was hoarse as you rambled your apologies to him, the guilt swirling in your abdomen as you tried to blink back the pearly wet tears.

“Stop it, that ain’t why I’m here.” He scoffed, “Just open the door.”

“I’ll just be a few minutes, I’ll see you back in the office.” You were certain you probably looked awful. Your mascara was definitely lined down your cheeks if the darkened tissue was anything to go by, and your eyes were surely red.

“Open the door, sweetheart.” He continued, “I just wanna make sure you’re alright.”

“I’m fine.” You mumbled.

“Don’t lie to me,” He whispered, “I wanna know what’s got my secretary sobbin’ in the toilet before midday.”

“It’s nothing, honestly.” You didn’t even know how to tell him that a random stranger on the phone made you cry, especially when you should’ve been thicker skinned working below the number two.

“I could get forty grievances against me for this, you know. Dynamight in the fuckin’ ladies.” Bakugou smiled slightly as you couldn’t help but huff out a small laugh on the other side, “So I think you can tell me what’s wrong.”

You were silent inside the stall as Bakugou lay the side of his head against the door, trying to listen to you as he tried one final time to get you to come out.

“Was it me?” He mumbled, and you felt your stomach drop that he could even think it was something he’d done.

“No!” You retorted swiftly.

“So what was it?” He continued.

You weren’t even sure what to tell him, you’d cried over a stupid clothing brand, or whatever it was he was trying to sell. You should be stronger as Dynamight’s secretary, have thicker skin, not cry over any random stranger that’s mean to you on the phone.

“Come on, sweetheart. Please?” He murmured gruffly, “I know people think I’m a fuckin’ asshole but I ain’t about to leave without checkin’ on you. Let me see that you’re alright and I’ll leave you alone, yeah?”

You hated the way your body reacted to him, even like this he had your heart pounding against your ribcage as you sniffled, wiping your cheeks a final time as you moved to open the door.

Bakugou was leaning against the doorframe casually as worried crimson eyes looked down at you, his brows were still furrowed deeply as though he was irritated at you and this made fresh tears well in your eyes as you tried to look to the ground.

“‘m sorry.” Your bottom lip trembled as you felt the hot tears begin to stream down your face again, but what happened next shocked you even more.

“C’mere, shitty woman.” Bakugou’s forearm reached up to circle around your neck, bringing your entire frame against his as he pressed your face into his chest. The comforting touch had your tears freely flowing as you soaked the soft, probably expensive, fabric of his shirt. But he didn’t seem to care, his other hand still buried inside his pants pocket as he held you steady against him, eventually resting his chin on the top of your head as he let you cry.

“That’s it, sweetheart.” He hummed, “Let it all out.”

Bakugou knew what it was like to cry alone, the isolation and the ache it caused as his chest heaved and throat tightened. The sheer number of times he’d wished someone was there for him, to pat his back and tell him it would be okay, and seeing the woman he was so desperately in love with the same way, hurt.

And you let yourself cry, the tears immediately soaking into him as the damp material of his shirt stuck to your cheeks, the scent of him comforting as you sniffed to try and inhale every part of it. Letting yourself melt into him as he swayed slightly while you cried into his chest in the bathroom.

Once the tears stopped falling you pulled back with bleary eyes, your head throbbing slightly from the length of time you’d been crying as he gave you a lazy, close lipped smile.

“There she is,” He murmured, resisting the urge to reach up with calloused thumbs and wipe the final few tears away, “Can’t believe you got me in the girls bathroom.”

You felt guilty at that, knowing that he was supposed to be taking a phonecall from Pro-Hero Deku right now before he went into his afternoon patrol.

“Take the rest of the day,” He cut you off before you’d even had a moment to utter your first objection, your mouth still agape as you readied to speak, “I ain’t taking no for an answer, grab your shit and get out.”

He sounded harsh, but you could hear the softness to his voice as he stepped away from you, grimacing when you noticed your makeup staining his shirt as he moved to leave the bathrooms.

“And you get me personally if that fucker ever calls back again, yeah?”

What he’d really wanted to say was, he’d take every single grievance he got for this just to make sure that you were okay, because you were more important than any of that.

“Thanks, Dynamight.” You mumbled, watching him leave the ladies restroom as you stepped towards the sinks to clean your face. Grimacing when you caught sight of just how awful you looked when you met your reflection in the mirror.

What you didn’t know was that same afternoon, Bakugou got a call from the same company that had berated you and made you cry. Leaning back in his chair as he listened to the man ramble on the phone about how excited they’d be to work with a Hero such as Dynamight, and the plans they had in mind. But Bakugou told them he’d never work for them, and he would ensure every hero in the top twenty would do the same. Because no amount of money was worth it after he’d seen you cry.

[sidekick-hero]

First Love, Second Chance

(steddie | teen | tags: exes to lovers, canon divergence (Eddie lives), future fic (set 2001) | Part 3)

Part 1 | Part 2

“Ah, yes, here you are, Mr. Munson,” Joanne said, glancing up from her clipboard. Her eyes flicked from Eddie to Steve, and a knowing smile spread across her face. “And what a coincidence, since you two obviously know each other.”

Steve’s heart seemed to skip a beat, his stomach doing a nervous flip. He didn’t dare looking over at Eddie, afraid of what he’d find on the still familiar face. Joanne continued, oblivious to the tension crackling in the air. “You’re sitting right next to each other. Isn’t that nice?” She looked at them with a bright, expectant expression, as if she’d just announced they’d won some kind of prize.

It wasn’t until they learned they weren’t actually a match that Steve realized just how much he’d been hoping for a fairy tale ending. Him and Eddie, stumbling into each other’s lives again after almost a decade, brought back together by fate and some cosmic joke of the universe. It was the kind of story that only seemed to happen in the cheesy romance movies El loved so much, the ones Steve always claimed he hated but secretly got sucked into. But real life wasn’t like the movies. The only time his life had felt cinematic was during the nightmares of the Upside Down, and he’d had enough of that particular genre.

“Oh…” Eddie’s voice broke through Steve’s thoughts, and he glanced up, startled by the look of genuine disappointment on Eddie’s face. “Are you— I mean, could you, uh, check again? Just in case, y’know?” Eddie stammered, his fingers drumming nervously on his thighs. “Maybe they made a mistake or… or something.”

Joanne dutifully checked her clipboard again, her eyes scanning the page with the same polite smile still fixed on her face. “I’m sorry, Mr. Munson. Everything seems to be in order.”

“Thank you, Joanne,” Steve cut in quickly, before Eddie could press the issue any further. It wasn’t her fault that the universe hadn’t conspired in their favor. “It was still… nice seeing you again, Eds. You look good. I mean, you look well. That’s good,” he stammered, catching himself too late. He needed to end this awkward little scene before it got any worse. “We shouldn’t keep our dates waiting.”

Sure enough, while they’d been caught up in their unexpected reunion, their actual dates had arrived. Steve’s attention shifted to the woman now sitting at his table — she was attractive, with dark curls and bright blue eyes, dressed in a simple outfit of jeans, sneakers, and a white shirt. He liked that immediately; she looked relaxed, approachable. When she caught his gaze, she gave him a warm, genuine smile, a dimple appearing at the corner of her mouth.

“You’re right,” Eddie said, noticing where Steve’s eyes had gone. He rested a hand on Steve’s shoulder, the metal of his rings cool against Steve’s skin, even through the fabric of his shirt. “I didn’t expect to see you here, but… I’m glad I did. You look good, too. Maybe we could, uh, catch up sometime. I’m new in the city, so I’m… you know, available. For whatever, whenever. And I’m gonna stop talking now.”

With a quick, embarrassed grin, Eddie turned away and headed toward his own table, where his date was already waiting. The man was tall, towering over both Steve and Eddie by at least a head, with tattoos snaking up his arms and across his neck. He was dressed head-to-toe in black, but despite his imposing appearance, he had the vibe of a friendly Saint Bernard — big, scruffy, and unexpectedly warm. The way he greeted Eddie, with an excited smile and a hand lingering just a little longer than necessary, suggested he was more than eager to make a good impression.

Something twisted deep in Steve's chest — regret, maybe, or that stubborn, lingering hope he couldn’t quite shake. But he forced himself to turn back to his date, determined to stay in the present. He was here to meet new people, to start fresh. That was the whole point, right?

Good intentions only got him so far, though. As the evening went on, it became harder and harder to keep his focus solely on Lisa, who certainly deserved better. From what Steve could tell, she was a great person — grounded and practical like Nancy, but with a quick wit and an idealism he found refreshing. She’d been signed up by a friend, too, and was still recovering from a past relationship, just like him. Though he didn’t tell her his own “formative heartbreak” was sitting just a few feet away, laughing that deep, infectious laugh Steve used to love so much.

Lisa worked for a non-profit that helped homeless people get back on their feet — too many in Chicago, especially kids, which was her main focus. They were just discussing her dream of having at least two children, a girl and a boy, when Steve felt Eddie’s gaze on him. Eddie’s date had gone to the bathroom, and it seemed like he’d been listening in on their conversation.

Steve’s desire for kids had been one of the main sticking points between him and Eddie. Not because Eddie didn’t like kids — if anything, Eddie adored them. They had practically co-parented Dustin, Lucas, Max, and the rest of the gang, and Eddie had a natural ease with them that had only made Steve fall harder. But Eddie had been convinced they’d never be allowed to adopt — not just because they were two men, but because of the lingering cloud of those old murder accusations, even though they’d been dismissed. No matter how often Steve had reassured him, saying, Sure, I want kids, but I want you more, it hadn’t been enough. He could have been happy just being a godparent to the next generation of kids. And who knew what the future held? The world was changing, more progressive than Eddie gave it credit for.

But it hadn’t helped. When they’d finally called it quits, Eddie had said, “At least now you can find someone to have your six nuggets with.” The words had stung too much for Steve to respond then, but they came back to him now.

“You know, I always wanted kids,” Steve began, looking at Lisa but knowing Eddie could hear him too. “But since I started working as a kindergarten teacher, I realized I don’t necessarily need any of my own. There are so many kids out there who could use some extra love and attention, and I’m happy to be able to give that to them, even if they’re not mine. My best friend always says we don’t have to live by the conventional ideas of family. We can make our own, however we want it to be. And I think she’s right.”

He said it to Lisa, but he hoped Eddie heard the message, too — that some dreams could change shape, and some things could still be possible, even if they didn’t look like what they’d once imagined.

Steve chanced another glance over at Eddie’s table and wasn’t surprised to find Eddie already looking back at him, his gaze intent, like he wanted to say something. But before the moment could lead to anything, Eddie’s date reappeared from the bathroom, and the connection snapped.

With effort, Steve pulled his eyes back to Lisa, who was watching the whole exchange with a puzzled look. She paused, then placed her small hand over his, her touch surprisingly steady.

“That’s a great way of looking at it, Steve,” she said softly. “I think your best friend is right. And trust me, with the work I do, I totally understand. There are so many children out there who need love, support, and attention. You’re a good guy.”

You’re a good guy.

The words echoed in his mind, pulling him back to another time, another place — back to when Eddie had said those very same words. Eddie, who hadn’t known him for more than a few days and who had every reason to hate him after high school. But somehow, Eddie had been the first to see that he had changed, the first to say it out loud, right when Steve needed to hear it most.

It seemed Eddie hadn’t stopped eavesdropping, because at that moment he stood up from his table, heading toward the bathroom. As he passed Steve, his hand brushed against Steve’s shoulder, just a quick squeeze, but enough to feel like a silent message — like Eddie still agreed with the sentiment, even after everything that had happened between them.

Watching Eddie walk away, Steve felt a rush of clarity, a sudden understanding he’d been resisting for too long. This was bullshit, as Nancy would say. All of it. He didn’t want a fresh start or someone new to help him get over his first big love. Maybe that would’ve been the logical thing, the sensible thing to do.

But when had Steve ever listened to anything but his heart? And his heart was screaming at him not to let Eddie slip away again.

Part 4

[fatgumsurpremacy-remastered]

Vox making a sinner his housespouse Drabble

Tw: (50’s) Period typical views of the nuclear family, entrapment, manipulation, gaslighting nuclear “family”, threats of violence, noncon touching

@omniuravity

I can just imagine the look on his face one day when you walk into his establishment looking for directions to where you’re supposed to go. A new sinner, someone just trying to pull themselves up as quick as possible.

And so polite too!

He’d charm you with a welcoming air and a quick gesture into his office, trying to offer you jobs in tv while you turn each one.

Smart.

When you highlight some of your skills he feels a course of electricity jolt through him, something more human than hid metal, and wired bodies.

“Have you thought of maid services?”

It was the first thought to come to his mind and one he noticed you cringed at, but shrugged towards.

“What could it hurt?”

A grin grew up his face and for the first few months he had a car driving you from where ever you’d need to go, so long as you offered him company at the end of the day. A small chat in his office turned to nights at an old fashioned drive through, turned into dances under the darkest part of the pride ring.

Yet he could tell you weren’t impressed, so he broadcast you on television, your services, your personality, making offhanded remarks about how perfect your body was. All things you’d oullined you didn’t want when you began your services. All things he promised he wouldn’t do, so when you saw a 50’s cartoon drawing of yourself thrown up on screens you were naturally livid.

Bringing it up to Vox you made sure to outline your disappointment, and Vox seethed internally. He had you walking to your jobs that week before he called you one morning, your apartment exploding in both your tv, watch, and phone ringing.

“Vox?”

“Heyyy doll! Nice to hear from you- hey, I need a small favor if you can manage it?”

You bit your lip in worry, hoping he wasn’t angry enough to hurt you.

“Yeah what-“

“How about now!” He asked cheerfully, sounding a bit pressed on time, a tad unhinged. And underlay stood a more true sound.

“Im outside already.”

You grumbled a small yes before he ended the call with a giddy chuckle, waiting for you to get your rear outside. When you stepped out the souped up company car that he usually had driven for you was nowhere to be seen. Instead- in its place a bright blue Buick limited, trimmed with a shiny red, windows finished with a shiny white. His face grined out the main window, sharp, flat teeth blinking oddly in the red lights of hell.

“Jump on in!” He exclaimed- patting the white leather seats, and barely waiting for you to take a seat before snapping you into his can, fastening the two seatbelts wicked tight and hellblazing down the highway,

Any questions asked about where you were going were met with a flippant disregard and a question about how you would design a wedding.

It wasn’t until you met a bright blue skyline with fake ass clouds that you even attempted to leave the car, trying to pry the handles off before the handle fizzeled out of existence and about a hundred people came out like clockwork to water their brightly colored flowers and fake ground.

You felt like you were on the brink of a panic before the car stopped entirely, Vox zipping through the air to pull you up and out of the car into a pretty baby blue house, with a white picket fence and some off pink curtains.

It of course would get some taking used to as Vox replayed an existence he’d never lived through to a snapping audience but after months of him refusing to feed you and your stomach finally forcing you to move you knew it was time.

And so every question you’d asked about the friends you made were turned against you.

“Oh that’s nothing to worry about honey, they’ve all graduated and had children by now…”

And you were expected to believe that.

You were expected to believe when those seem people were threatened on the knives where Vox had to lock the chemicals up and send the knives away. Expected to believe that when you begged the other hellions on the street to help you and they tied you down until Vox came back around at the end of the day.

So it’d be easier now for him to keep you, trace a hand across your collarbones and whisper violence into your ear as you twitched away, constrained by a pure white, frilly set of handcuffs. Begging him to let you leave until the day the two of you broke during a fight, when he sputtered out an agictated ‘I hate you!’

Before you broke into hysterical laughter, sobbing and chuckling like mad at his feet while he tried to pick you up. Only able to get as far as an inch off the ground before he brought a pillow and blanket into the kitchen to let you rest out.

“All couples have their issues honey…”

“Yeah.”

“We’ll be fine in a few days.”

“Dinner is a surprise tonight Vox, what wine pairs best with Lamb?”

[ichorai]

particles ; peter parker.

track eight of BROKEN MACHINE.

prequel to spiderling!

pairing ; peter parker x stark!reader (gender neutral), dad!tony x reader

synopsis ; tony gives peter the dreaded 'dad' talk.

words ; 2.8k

themes ; fluff, mild comedy

warnings / includes ; set right at the end of homecoming era & onwards, mild cursing, peter is so endearingly awkward, tony being a good dad :(

a/n ; another part is in the works to be set during the events of infinity war/endgame!

main masterlist.

The Avengers compound was all sleek edges, clean cool-tones, and large floor-to-ceiling windows with not a speck of dust to be seen. It was an intimidating environment, to say the least. What made things worse was Mr. Stark’s hand on his shoulder and the hopeful gleam to his eyes.

The team, he had said. Tony wanted him to join the Avengers.

And with the brand new suit displayed in front of him, too… it was nearly impossible to say no.

Nearly.

When Peter stammered out a polite decline, Tony had looked at him above his lowered sunglasses, incredulous.

“You’re turning me down?” he said, heavy with disbelief. “You better think about this, kid.”

There was a long pause.

“Last chance, yes or no?”

Of course he wanted to say yes—to be in the Avengers, work with Iron Man himself… that was his dream. But he couldn’t. Someone had to look out for the little guy, right? And who better than the friendly neighborhood Spider-Man?

“No,” Peter replied. 

Not at all used to being rejected, Tony struggled for words for a moment, before reluctantly accepting Peter’s decision, masking his disappointment fairly well. He liked the kid, and it wasn’t exactly fun to have him slip through his fingers like this. With a wave of his hand at Happy, he told him that he’d be driven home.

“Thank you, Mr. Stark. Truly,” Peter hastily said, certain that he’d made the right decision.

Preoccupied thinking about what he was going to tell the fifty reporters waiting behind the doors, Tony absentmindedly quipped, “Yes, uh, very well, Mr. Parker.”

Peter left with a proud grin and a skip to his step, nodding when Happy asked him to wait in the car. 

Before he could make his way out, however, a voice stopped him in his tracks.

“That was really ballsy, what you did back there,” you said, observing him with an amused expression, eyes narrowed with curiosity. Peter blinked, recognizing you almost immediately. “Not a lot of people would leave my dad hanging like that.”

With a widened stare, Peter found all the words stuck in his throat. You were much more breathtaking in person, with an intrigued air about you. Though your features took more after your mother, who’d passed away many years ago, Peter noticed that you shared Tony’s smile.

“Uh… yeah,” was all Peter could lamely say.

The subtle beam curving your lips seemed to grow wider. You hummed, soft and lilting, languidly stepping forward with a nod. “Hope to see you around then, Peter.” You took his hand, sliding a folded piece of paper into his palm. “Give me a call if you ever need anything. Or if you just need a friend to talk to, I’m all ears. It’s a private phone—my dad doesn’t know about it. He gets really uptight about me talking to strangers but… you’re not really a stranger, are you? At least, not for long.”

Shocked, Peter could only open and shut his mouth, as if he were a fish out of water. 

“I, uhm… thank you. I’ll definitely, uh, definitely take you up on that offer,” he choked out, nodding emphatically. 

You gave him a warm smile, accompanied by a two-fingered salute, and in turn, he waved goodbye, palms drenched with sweat as he hurriedly backed away to the car before Happy could yell at him. 

Cute, you thought with an amused shake of your head, before making your way back to your dad, who was still muttering under his breath about how he couldn’t believe a fifteen year old had just turned him down.

Your phone number stared at him every day for the next week. The numbers were hastily scribbled down in blue ink, smudged ever so slightly by the crease of the fold during your rush, but you’d taken the time to draw a smiley face right beneath the last digit. It never failed to make Peter smile every time he gave it a glance. 

It took him three days to psyche himself up to even considering calling you, and another three to actually add you to your contacts, his thumb hovering over the call button far too often than he’d like to admit. On the seventh day, Peter pressed with a sharp inhale.

Three rings trilled by.

Peter wondered if you were going to pick up. He wouldn’t really be surprised if you didn’t—you were a busy person, probably, and didn’t have the time to take calls from people like him. 

Another ring. And suddenly, your voice reverberated through. Peter sat up on his bed, spine straightening as if it were an iron rod.

“Hello?”

“Y/N! Hi!” he said, voice abnormally high-pitched. He cleared his throat and nervously added, “It’s Peter. Peter Parker?”

A laugh echoed in his ear. He could picture your humored smile. “Yeah, I remember. It’s nice to hear from you—thought you’d never call.”

“You were waiting?”

“Of course, I was. I wouldn’t have given you my number if I didn’t want you to call.”

Warm relief surged through his veins, accompanied by a flustered coil winding within his abdomen. “Cool, cool… so, uh, I don’t want to be too forward or anything but I think you’re… so cool and uhm—” A pause. Was Peter really asking you out on an impulsive date? “Would you wanna hang out?”

On the other end of the line, you blinked in surprise, not expecting his sudden forwardness. You shifted the phone in your palm. “Right now?” It was a good thing you weren’t busy, having caught up on all your assignments and projects. Besides—you couldn’t remember the last time you properly went out into the city with someone other than Happy, Pepper, or your dad. 

“Uh… if you’re not busy, that is.”

“You know what—sure. Why the hell not?” you replied, grinning.

Peter did a double-take. “Wait—really?”

“Yes, really. I’d love to spend some time with you, Peter.”

Now it was his turn to smile, pink dusting across his cheekbones. “Great. I’ll text you where to meet, then?”

“Sure, Peter.”

After the call ended, you were quick to change into appropriate attire, not wanting to draw too much attention to yourself. You donned a soft grey hoodie and baggy black jeans, slipping out of your room a few minutes later. The location Peter had sent you was a quaint little library not too far from where you lived, within a manageable walking distance. You were glad that you wouldn’t have to ask Happy to drive you, because knowing your godfather, he’d be hovering over Peter like a vulture.

Just as you were about to slip out, your tote bag slung over your shoulder, Tony popped his head out of the living room, quirking a brow.

“Hey, kid,” he cautiously greeted. “Where you goin’?”

You froze with one foot out of the door. “Library,” you answered, trying you best to appear nonchalant.

“Hm. Which library?”

With a frown marring your lips, you crossed your arms. “Jeez, dad, whichever library! I’m sure there’s, like, a dozen in a five-mile radius.”

Mirroring your attitude, Tony mimicked your squared jaw and rolled his eyes. “You know, if you wanted to hang out with that kid Peter, you could’ve just asked.”

A beat of silence. You narrowed your eyes at your dad. “How do you know about that?”

Tony let out a loud guffaw. “What? You don’t think I didn’t know you bought yourself your own phone? Are you forgetting that your pops is Tony Stark himself? God, kid, you were just like me when I was your age.” He paused at that, rethinking what he just said. “Well, actually, I was way worse.”

He strode forward, smoothing his hands down the sleeves of your hoodie and patting your shoulders. It wasn’t often that Tony was overly affectionate with you, but whenever he was, you always appreciated how genuine he would be.

After pressing a chaste kiss to your forehead, he gently nudged you out the door. “Go on. Get! Scat!” He made shooing motions with his hands. “If you don’t get back by sundown, I’ll have Happy hunt you down and kill the kid town executioner style.” At your scowl, Tony was quick to tack on, “Joking! I’m joking.”

“Bye, dad,” you said huffily, though the affection in your tone was unmistakable. With that, you turned to leave, fishing out your phone to text Peter that you were on your way.

“They grow up so fast,” a voice mused from over Tony’s shoulder, welling with emotion. 

He flinched at his friend’s sudden presence, slamming the door shut. “Jesus Christ, Happy, don’t scare me like that!”

The months flew by in a breeze. You and Peter were now exclusively dating—something that he had asked about early on in your relationship, worriedly gnawing at his bottom lip with the harrowing idea of you turning him down. But you’d been nothing but sweet with him, affectionately pressing your nose into his cheek and telling him that you’d love to be official.

You were lounging on his bed, sprawled over his dark blue comforter, which smelled of fresh laundry detergent and something else entirely Peter that you couldn’t get enough off. He was across the narrow room, hunched over his desk as he hurriedly did his physics homework due the very next day. Idly, you fiddled with the web shooters you had swiped from his bedside table, narrowing your eyes at the wrist fixings and the capsules that held his web fluid.

Only a genius could build something like this on his own, you thought fondly. I’m dating a genius.

It seemed that you had said the last bit out loud, because Peter snorted in amusement.

“Yeah, says you,” he scoffed. “You skipped, like, a dozen grades.”

“Half that, actually. Six grades.”

Peter turned to look at you over his shoulder, arching his brows. “Not to mention your dad is literally the Tony Stark.”

With a hum, you slunk off his bed and languidly draped your arms over his shoulder. “Just take the compliment, Peter,” you said as you pressed a fond kiss to a faint freckle on his cheek. Then, you glanced down at the problem he was solving. “Mmh, don’t forget the negative sign. It’s moving against gravity, no?”

“Right.” He hastily corrected the formula, glancing at you appreciatively. “Thanks.”

“No prob, I make the same mistake all the time,” you quipped. “I’ve been making my own suit with the help of my dad—had to study up a lot on rotational mechanics and material physics. It’s been a pain in the ass.”

Brows raising, Peter dropped his pencil and rotated his chair so he was facing you fully, his knees grazing yours. “What? You’re making your own suit?”

“Yeah,” you said with the beginnings of an excited smile tracing your lips. “I mean, I don’t know if I’ll ever become an Avenger like my dad is but… I don’t know. It’s certainly an option.”

A low groan fell from Peter’s throat, and he buried his face in his palms. “You’re telling me we could’ve been in the same team together? Ugh, stop, stop, don’t make me regret turning your dad down.” 

“Oh, no, Pete, I think you made the right choice,” you quickly reassured him, tugging his wrists away from his flushed features. “We’re still young. It’s not fair to put that responsibility on our shoulders as of now.”

The brown of his irises softened. “Yeah. We’re still young,” he echoed, ducking his head to kiss your hand clutching his. “You gotta show me that suit of yours one day, though.”

Both you and Peter were strolling around an art museum, arms linked and permanent smiles plastered over your expressions as you pointed at various paintings and sculptures. It was nearly an hour into the date when your phone began buzzing in your pocket, and you hastily let go of Peter’s arm to fish it out.

“Hello?”

“Hey, bugaroo,” Tony’s drawl came through your phone. “Where are you? I’m bored.”

A lopsided grin hung onto the corner of your lips at his words. “I’m with Peter right now.”

“Hm. You guys are behaving yourselves, I hope. You using protection?”

The grin melted off your face and you scowled. “Dad, what the fuck?”

“Hey, language!” he scolded, before chuckling dryly. “God, I’m turning into Cap. Anyways—what’re you thinking for dinner tonight? Does Chinese sound good? You wanna invite the Spider over, too?”

You glanced at Peter, who was ogling an abstract painting with a tilted head and a puzzled expression. He’d never really understood the point of this art style, but when you’d explained to him that art didn’t need to be understood to be considered art, he had grown much more lenient with his views of the chaotic splotches of paint. A small smile traced the corner of your lips as you watched his features contort with every one of his thoughts. Peter truly wore his heart on a sleeve, for everyone to see.

“Yeah, sounds great,” you said into the phone. “We’ll be home in an hour.”

Dinner consisted of warm soup dumplings and stir-fried noodles in flimsy paper boxes.

“Mm, Mr. Stark, these are delicious. I mean, I know you didn’t cook this or anything but it’s still really good,” Peter said around a mouthful of noodles. “Thanks for, uh, inviting me over. It’s an honor, really.”

“Stop sucking up to my dad, Peter,” you snorted, sipping on some iced tea. “He already likes you.”

One of Tony’s brows raised. “When did I ever say that?” At Peter’s slightly mortified expression, Tony rolled his eyes. “I’m kidding. Jokes, kiddo. Don’t piss yourself.”

“Speaking of piss—I’m goin’ to the powder room. Don’t fight while I’m gone,” you unabashedly said, pushing yourself away from the table. You really were your father’s child, Peter thought, mildly amused.

Tony watched you disappear behind a hallway, before fixing his gaze on Peter. The older man drummed his chopsticks by the edge of the table. 

“Listen, kid, I know we’re already way past the point of this but as a father—you gotta understand that I have to give you the talk.” It was jarring to see Tony genuinely serious for once. Peter straightened himself subconsciously. “If you ever, ever hurt Y/N, I will stick a rocket up your ass and launch you straight to the moon. Do you understand?”

Peter gulped. “Yes, sir. I got it. You can trust me. I, uh, I really do like Y/N.”

“Oh, you do, do you?”

“...Yes? I’m sorry, I’m confused, do you not want me to like them?”

An unsatisfied noise fell from Tony’s lips. “Eh. I mean, would I prefer Y/N never ever date anybody and stay locked in their room forever, wasting away in front of a screen? Absolutely. But if it just had to be someone… I’m glad it’s you.”

Peter blinked in surprise. “Wow, Mr. Stark. That’s… thank you. It’s a huge honor. I promise I’ll take good care of them.”

“Yeah, don’t push it, Pete. You guys are barely a decade old.”

“Am I coming off too strong?” he winced, recoiling into his chair slightly. 

The man across from him gestured to the small space between his pinched fingers. “Just a bit.”

“I’m actually fif—”

“Fifteen. I know. Y/N, too.”

There was another tense moment of silence as Tony scrutinized the young man. 

Finally satisfied, he leaned back in his chair and smiled roguishly. “Phew! Glad that’s over with. In all honesty, if one of you were to hurt the other, it probably wouldn’t be you. I mean, let’s face it, you’re dating my kid, kid.”

Before Peter could respond, you slipped back into the room, your hands propped up on your hips. “Really, dad? Are you trying to scare Peter off?”

Your father gave you a sheepish shrug. “It was worth a shot.”

“I can make my own decisions,” you sternly replied. “You don’t need to hover.”

As you sat back down into the chair beside Tony, he wound an arm over your shoulders. “You know, my dad did the exact opposite of hovering when I was your age. He was always too caught up with work and stuff—barely ever saw the guy. Most birthdays n’ holidays and whatnot, he was never around. I don’t know, I just… I don’t want to be like my dad.”

Your features softened with his admission, and you turned to rope him into a proper hug. 

When you pulled away, Peter nervously cleared his throat. “I, uh, for the record—I don’t think you can ever scare me off. Not even after going to the moon with a rocket up my ass.”

Tony glared at him, though there was a slight smile twitching at the corner of his lips. “Watch it, kid.”

“Sorry.”

[agentmarcuspike]

our secret moments in a crowded room

(or, "is there a reason you're naked in my bed?" part 4)

dbf!joel miller x f!reader cw: age gap, public fondling, mutual masturbation, semi-public, oral (m recieving) word count: 2.2k

part 1 + part 2 + part 3

It’s been three weeks since you last saw Joel Miller, ignoring the four times he’s been over to borrow your dad’s tools and you’ve only nodded at each other politely, both of you working hard to hide your flushed faces and grins at the memory of your night together.

It’s also been three weeks since your last date, and seeing as the date itself wasn’t very successful, even though the result was, you’ve decided to stay in this weekend. Which is why it’s extra annoying that your dad is planning to throw yet another boy’s night. But you glimpse a hope for the evening.

“Is Miller coming?” you ask him as you enter the kitchen.

Your dad gives you a suspicious look. “Why? Do we not want him to? Did he do anything?” 

“No, no, not at all!” you hurry. “Just wondering.” 

He nods, still squinting at you. “Okay…” He continues laying out the food for the barbecue. “Cause if he did…” Another break. “You’d tell me, right?”

“Dad!” you laugh. “Miller’s fine.” 

“Good, I agree. Anyway, he said he’d be working late and probably wouldn’t make it.”

Disappointed, you gather up as many snacks your arms can hold, dropping a bag of crisps on your way to the stairs. 

“Did you leave a single one for us, or…?” your dad shouts after you. 

At 9pm you’ve finished one book, two movies, and your snacks, and you figure it’s time to put something other than potato chips in your stomach. Knowing Joel won’t be there, and your dad’s other friends being too old and oblivious, and probably drunk, to care, you shuffle down the stairs still in your PJs.

You hear your dad’s loud laugh from the garden, probably still working the grill with someone, and as you approach the kitchen you realize there are people in there too. 

Four guys are occupying the kitchen chairs, deep in conversation, half full and empty beer bottles scattering the table. And one of them is Joel Miller. 

He notices you staring, greeting you with a smile and a quick look down to your decade old, and by now way too short, pajama shorts. You know he doesn’t mind. And you don’t either, finding the thought of him seeing you this unclothed in front of other people kind of exciting. Truth is he didn’t even get to see you this close to naked when you hooked up, as neither of you really got undressed for it.

You walk over to greet them.

“Hello, boys,” you say chipperly. They all cheer at your arrival, clearly one too many beers in, but they’re all your dad’s friends, and you only laugh. “How’re we doin’ tonight? Didn’t think you’d make it, Miller?”

He takes a long sip of his bottle, not breaking eye contact. “Finished on time.” 

You walk over to the kitchen cabinets to make yourself a bowl of cereal, and the men fall back into conversation about a recent fishing trip. 

You observe them from your stool by the kitchen island chomping on your Cap'n Crunch, amused by their ability to seemingly all be talking about different things and still keep a conversation going, when Joel turns around to look for you.

“Why don’t you join us over here, Missy?”

“Looks like all the seats are taken,” you smirk.

“What, you too old to sit in my lap already?” 

He winks at you and pats his thigh, mischief in his eyes, and you get up to join them. 

The feeling of his jeans against the bare skin of your legs throws you back to three weeks ago, when you were in his bed, and he was in you. It seems he remembers too, because you can feel him twitch slightly underneath you, moving the hand that’s not around his beer to rest at your hip.

While the men question you about boyfriends and school, you spread your legs a little further, challenging Joel’s hand closer to the inside of your thigh. He shifts slightly, but makes no move to relocate his fingers. Instead, you feel him squeeze your leg subtly. 

Once you’ve gulped down the candy flavored milk left in your bowl, you wipe your mouth, and reposition yourself in Joel’s lap, pushing your ass closer to his groin, where you can feel his bulge growing. He clears his throat, giving your leg another squeeze, and you help yourself to the beer bottle from his hand, taking a big gulp. You turn your head to look at him, and he gives you a quick cautioning look through his lashes. Taking the warning as a challenge, you’re about to grind against him again, when—

“Miller? A little hand out here, please!” 

Before your dad can even finish the sentence, Joel is up. He throws out a quick “sorry, princess,” over his shoulder, already on his way to help his friend out in the garden. You scowl after him, adopting his chair, and taking another gulp of his beer. 

A couple minutes and approximately a million fishing anecdotes from the men around the table later, Joel returns. 

“You’re in my seat,” he claims, grabbing a new beer from the fridge.

“This one’s free,” you say and pat your lap when he stands in front of you again. 

“I’m not gonna sit on you,” he sighs.

“I’m a big girl, I can handle it,” you dare. 

“Come on now, scoot.”

You only smirk at him, refusing to move. He rolls his eyes eventually, and gives in, situating himself on top of your bare thighs. 

You rest your cheek against his broad back, the rumbling of his voice making you comfortably relaxed and turned on at the same time. Resting your hand in the crook where his hip bone meets his thigh, you rub your thumb absentmindedly back and forth.

As you lean forward to borrow his beer again, you let your other hand slide a little closer to his crotch, and you feel him jump slightly, but he lets you. 

The group of friends are all absorbed in some story about a construction issue, you’re not really paying attention, so you go ahead and stretch your fingers to find Joel’s growing erection straining against his jeans. You marvel at the feel of his swelling cock under your hand as you massage it, and you can feel his breathing get heavier as he fights the urge to grind into your palm.

He leans back towards you slightly, more of his weight against your chest, giving you space to work him under the table. You press your hand against his now fully hard cock, dragging your palm up and down his length slowly, his thighs clenching over your own. Rubbing your thumb against the throbbing head, he coughs to hide the involuntary groan escaping him, but none of the other men are paying any mind to what’s going on right next to them. 

As you’re about to give him another stroke of your hand, the loud thumps of your dad’s boots shift everyone’s attention towards him. Joel quickly crosses his legs, trapping your hand between them and covering it with his own. He clears his throat yet again as your dad walks towards you. 

“The boys aren’t bothering you, are they?” 

He leans down to plant a kiss to your forehead, giving Joel a pat on the back, and you shake your head grinning. 

“Don’t break her, man,” he teases Joel playfully. 

Joel only mutters out a “sorry” in response, avoiding your father’s gaze as he leans forward, still clutching your hand and pushing it into his hardness. The warmth his back provided now gone leaves you to shiver slightly, and with your dad standing right there it feels too dangerous to continue your game, so you nudge Joel’s thigh with your free hand, making him stand up just enough for you to sneak out from under him without revealing the bulge in his pants.

He sits back down, elbows planted firmly on the table, shoulders high and clutching his beer like his life depends on it. His flushed face and intense eye contact with the table makes you force down a giggle. 

“Alright boys, thanks for the company, I’m going to bed,” you say, looking at Joel, hoping he reads between the lines. Your dad and his friends all yell goodnight, Joel quickly gulping down the last of his beer as you disappear out of the kitchen.

You only wait around the corner, and when he exits a few minutes later, clearly thinking he’ll be going upstairs to your bedroom, you pull him to the side and into the downstairs bathroom instead.

As soon as the door is locked behind you, your hands reach up cupping his face, pulling him down to press your lips to his. He’s momentarily taken aback by your hastiness, but quickly follows your pace, kissing you back hungrily, holding back the moans you pull from him as you feed him your tongue. 

You grab him by the waistband of his jeans, pulling him closer to grind yourself against his erection. With the same energy he pushes you into the wall, breaking off the kiss to burrow his nose into your neck, his hot breath against your skin making you literally weak in the knees. He feels you sliding slowly down the wall, and grabs you by the overarms to hoist you back up. 

When Joel’s mouth finds yours again, caressing your face with both hands, you reach for his belt, quickly unbuckling it. You shove a hand down his boxers to grab his desperate cock, and your other hand quickly moves to cover his mouth, holding back the obscenely loud growl your touch elicits from him. 

The stubble on his face tickles your hand as he leans into it, and you slowly pull him free from his jeans. With the tip of his cock nearly dripping with precum, you give him a few strokes, and you can see his eyes practically roll to the back of his head as he closes them, focusing only on your touch and not making a noise.

When he has gathered himself enough, he leans his forehead against yours, one hand exploring your chest, slipping the other one down into your shorts. He’s not surprised to find you already dripping wet for him, and you gasp as his fingers drag through your folds to circle your clit with your slick. 

You ache for him to fill you up, and as if reading your mind he slips two of his thick fingers into you, immediately hitting the spot that was screaming for him. You pull him back to your mouth, accepting his tongue, craving for him to fill you up wherever he can. 

Joel starts thrusting quicker into your hand, grounding himself with a hand clasped around your breast, and you speed up the strokes so your fist matches the pace of his hips. Your lips are sore from the wetness of his mouth, and his are red and swollen, parted lightly. He pulls away to work his fingers deeper into you.

Working your clit with his thumb, you bite your lip as he pushes a third finger in, stretching you open. The feeling is nothing compared to when he filled you up with his cock, but you’ll take anything he gives you, moaning his name over and over.

Your orgasm surprises you as much as him, and you hold your breath while you come down on his fingers. His big hand holds you up by your arm as your legs threaten to give out. 

“I got you, baby,” he murmurs, the feel of his breath in your ear sending a shiver down your spine to mix with the aftershocks of your high. His cock twitches in your hand, and he burrows his nose in your neck, sucking at your skin to cover his soft moans. 

“Let me taste your cum,” you whisper to him. He roughly grabs your wrist so you let go of him, your words turning him on so much he’s worried he’ll burst before you can get to it.

Kneeling in front of him, you only take him in your hungry mouth for a second before thick ropes of his salty come hit the back of your throat. When you look up, tongue softly licking up the last few drops leaking out of him, he’s biting his hand, eyes squeezed shut in pleasure.

His cock twitches for several more seconds before you feel him going soft in your mouth, and he sucks on his fingers, still covered in you. The view of him standing over you, dark eyes looking down, mouth slack in awe, sends a new wave of desire between your legs, and you reach into your shorts and send yourself over the edge one more time. 

A minute later you’re facing each other awkwardly in the hallway, both anxiously looking over your shoulders before he leans in to give you a quick peck on the mouth. 

“Night then…” he mumbles, suddenly shyer than usual. 

You laugh softly, taking a few steps up the stairs. “Night, Mr. Miller. See you soon.” 

Joel looks up at you, trying not to smile, before turning to rejoin your dad and their friends in the kitchen. You look after him for a second, before shuffling up the stairs, slipping into bed, where you ponder how to get your neighbor completely naked next time.

a/n: well... that happened! hope you enjoyed it?? i feel like it doesn't measure up to part 3 writing wise, but the concept is hotter imo, so hopefully you don't mind :^)

[klausysworld]

Can I get something where reader becomes close to Klaus due to Damon just using her as a destruction and human blood bag (Damon’s in love with Elena) Damon and reader get into a fight after he sees her with Klaus and he tells reader Klaus is only using her to get at him. But Klaus shows reader that what he feels is more then just friends, he proves it to reader by asking reader to leave with him, as reader is more important to him then his hybrids.

Thanks so much… your amazing 🤩

Just us

I stood silently in the doorway as i spotted Damon, my so called boyfriend, tucking a strand of Elena’s hair behind her ear before kissing the corner of her mouth. My heart ached and i began to feel sick as i walked away.

I carefully undid the bandage on my neck to see the torn skin and two deep parallel cuts. I brought the antiseptic wipe up to the wound and gently wiped at the remaining blood. I glanced back at my face and gave a weak smile as i heard Damon calling me back to bed

Damon had been particularly needy recently, apparently due to the stress of Klaus. I had met him and seen him a couple times, he seemed quite nice actually, he was polite and smiled when he saw me, though maybe i’m just imagining it compared to the distasteful looks Damon offers me.

I was sat in the grill at the bar talking to Matt about his day but then he had to leave and serve a table so i was alone… until someone took the seat next to me. I was fully prepared for it to be Damon in a strop over Elena so i turned my head with a sigh though i adjusted my posture and blinked in surprise when Klaus Mikaelson was sat looking at me with raised eyebrows and a teasing grin on his lips

“am i that bad love?” he pouted and i blushed in slight embarrassment

“i’m sorry, i didn’t know it was you” i explained quietly playing with my fingers

“who had you so disappointed? Don’t tell me it’s Damon? Do you want me to torture him for you?” i gaped slightly at his semi-serious offer and felt a small amount of panic to rush through me, did he plan to kill Damon!?

“y/n, love, your hearts going a million miles a minute. I promise i’m not that scary” his tone was light and he put is hands up in a mock surrender action

“no- i know that! i wasn’t, i didn’t mean to offend you” i grasped aimlessly at excuses hoping he wouldn’t get upset… when Damon gets upset he tends to bite.

“i’m not offended, you worry too much sweetheart. Now what are we drinking?” he asked leaning over the bar to get a bartenders attention

that was the first time Klaus and i spent the day together.

from then he seemed to pop up quite regularly.

———————————————————————

“i was about to take a stroll, why don’t you join me, love” and so we walked all over mystic falls, he actually brought us to see the falls where he playfully nudged me toward the water which resulted in me shoving him in and him latching onto me taking me with him. I attached myself to his back and he willingly carried me back to his house where he showed me how to use one of the showers. That evening i received the first pieces of his clothing.

———————————————————————

“You seem peckish love, i myself am quite hungry, perhaps lunch is in order?” he asked rhetorically as he took my hand in his and guided me back to his house where he made his hybrids leave before cooking us food himself.

“i wasn’t aware someone as rich as you would humour yourself with ‘simple human tasks’” i spoke, distaste clear in my voice as i quoted Damon from the other night. Apparently i should be washing his clothes because i’m weak and irrelevant.

“money is an object that not even i can understand, your hunger however is something i can help” he spoke almost carefully, slowly as he studied me. I regretted the tone i had previously used but neither of us mentioned it. Klaus had told me i wasn’t allowed to apologise for things anymore, apparently ‘sorry’ isn’t his favourite thing for me to say.

We sat and ate with minimal conversation but a comfortable silence. We both continuously stole glanced at each other and i could feel the heat rising in my face.

I stayed the entire day, we watched films, mostly my picks as i learnt he was boring and hadn’t seen anything remotely interesting. He showed me his art room and attempted to teach me how to paint.

By the time we had finished and i was ready to leave it was pitch black outside

“you know i’m not entirely comfortable with you being alone in the dark, perhaps you should stay here the night?” he asked softly, his hand on my shoulder. i was apprehensive about staying, Damon would have questions, why wasn’t i in his bed, what if he got mad?

“you can borrow my clothes…or keep my clothes?” i mulled over the opportunity for a moment and as though the universe pushed me in the right direction it began pouring with rain

“well i suppose it is a nice house” i muttered turning back around.

He put me in the room next to his, i was lead on the softest bed i have ever imagined covered in the scent of Klaus’s shirt as i drifted to sleep in the warmth of a thousand blankets

———————————————————————

Klaus and i had been out for the day, we actually went bowling which was…fun. I thought i was pretty good, i forgot he was a thousand year old original hybrid with flawless aim and the perfect pressure to throw it down the aisle.

We parted earlier up the path as i split of the go to the salvatore boarding house. The second inside i was grabbed by the neck and held in a painful hold agains the door, the handle stabbing my side as i clawed at Damons wrist

“what.the.fuck.are you doing with him.” it wasn’t a question. He was furious and the veins were already under his hatful red eyes

“you think he cares if you live or die!? you’re pathetic y/n! i could rip your head from your shoulders and he wouldn’t even notice” he growled squeezing my windpipes harshly and i felt my body giving in to the helplessness. Suddenly the pressure was gone and i was on the floor gasping, tears pouring down my cheeks as i scrambled to the furthest corner of the room

“how dare you touch her.” Klaus. Klaus was here.

I breathed in relief and let myself sag against the wall my head resting against the hard surface.

I felt my eyes droop to the exhaustion and lack of air, muffled shouting and breaking of objects in the background.

———————————————————————

“y/n? are you awake yet my love?” his voice was so delicate. So loving. i reached out for him, my eyes still shut as i held his warm hand and tugged him closer. I felt the bed dip as i was brought closer to his chest, his arms enveloping my body and holding me gently

“we’re going to leave okay? just us, me and you. No hybrids, no doppelgängers, no pathetic excuses of a man. Just us, anywhere you desire” he whispered and i nuzzled closer to him

“but…you’ve waited a thousand years for all of this, you’re hybrids, you don’t want them?” i asked quietly cracking my eyes opening and angling my head up to look into his eyes

“no, they’re not important anymore, i just want you” he promised and sealed it with a kiss. His lips ever so faintly on my the gentleness he held had my heart melting

“just us?”

“just us”

[forever1kay]

HIII I DON'T KNOW IF YOU STILL DO REQUESTS BUT- It you do, may you write this pls🤭

Miles morales x male! Reader who he meets at a school trip? The reader is very sarcastic or chill? (Reader has a personality that's like Mai from ATLA!)

The reader is like famous for their voice and guitar and art skills (brrrr) so when miles met reader he started to get interested in em so he follows reader whenever they go while on a school trip ✨

<3 ignore if you seem uncomfortable with this, lob youuuu

(I've requested to you before ;) )

Summary: Reader and Miles finally confess after years of dancing around each other. But first, let’s go back into where it all started…

Pairing: Miles Morales x M!Reader

Notes: I know exactly who this is. I apologize for not doing this sooner. I know you requested this months ago and I’ve been slacking off. I hope this makes up for it :) I did kinda diverge away from the request a little and went more so towards the direction of your previous requests. I hope that’s okay!

Warnings: Reader is probably more sassy than stoic tbh, Miles is very much aggravating in some of these, Miles and reader were born early 2005 (or late 2004, up to you), mentions of school, graduation, reader is a smoker (not really), Soulja Boy, Nick and Charlie slander, slow burn relationship. Let me know if I forgot anything!

The Ten Times You and Miles Danced Around Your Feelings

I. Taravella Playground - EST. 2008

A red and blue flash from a small size 4 shoe piques Miles' interest as he lazily glances up from his position in the middle of the sandbox. Miles looks up from the intruder's feet to their face after noticing how he’d wordlessly been staring for a while, but the boy's scowl leaves Miles feeling horribly disappointed (and afraid, might I add). He wasn't prepared for such hostility from a fellow Spider-Man fan—not that he knew what hostility meant anyway—but he was sure the expression on the boy’s face would haunt him for many lifetimes. Nevertheless, Miles made an effort to introduce himself and be sociable.

“Hi, I’m Miles.” He says with an apprehensive yet polite smile.

“I’m Y/N.” The boy responds, detaching his shovel from his bucket before settling down on the boards that surrounded the sandbox.

Miles searches his small brain for a conversation starter—not that there were many in there to begin with—and decides on a topic that he’s confident he can discuss without tripping over his words. His favorite hero. Spider-Man.

But, apparently, he asked a question that was entirely too obvious.

“Do you like Spider-Man?”

Y/n looks down at his own shirt and shoes then looks back at Miles, raising an eyebrow. “Isn’t it obvious?”

Miles sighs and gives Y/n a mostly toothless grin before returning his attention to his bucket. "I wanted to be sure.” He says. “I like Spider-Man too, you know.”

“Good for you.” Y/n replies, looking slightly agitated and mildly uninterested.

Suddenly, Miles wants to go home.

———

II. Macy’s Thanksgiving Day Parade - EST. 2009

Y/n shakes his head as he watches a small figure run through a large crowd at the parade. He made the decision to turn his head away and pretend he hadn't seen anything, but the next thing he knew, he was lying on his back, staring up at the sky.

His mom had forced him out to the Macy’s Thanksgiving Day parade, and he was less than thrilled. He tried to avoid it, but wasn’t given much of a choice. Saying as he was under his parents’ rule and wasn’t yet allowed to make his own decisions.

But, after this less than pleasant experience, he knew he should’ve pushed harder to stay home. This kind of stuff wouldn't happen indoors.

“Oops, sorry!” The culprit said with an annoyingly recognizable voice.

It was Miles, the Spider-Man fan who Y/n had to (painfully)endure seeing each Thursday evening in the park.

"Oh, it’s you," Y/n deadpanned. "I knew it."

Y/n sat up, and Miles reached out to help him up. But Y/n quietly declined and stood up for himself.

Miles opened his mouth to speak, but he was suddenly grabbed and placed on the shoulders of a lanky bald man wearing the coolest shoes Y/n had ever seen.

“Sorry about that, little man.” The bald man spoke while lowering himself to Y/n's level. “My little nephew can be a bit much at times.”

"I know him, Uncle Aaron!" Miles informed his uncle, pointing his finger directly in front of Y/n’s face.

Y/n looks at his finger and shakes his head no, slowly lowering Miles’ hand.

“He bothers me at the park.”

"That's not true!"

Aaron looked at Y/n who nodded rapidly, providing a counter argument—or in this case, action—to Miles’ statement.

Standing to his full height, Aaron chuckles, "It's okay little man. You’ll grow to love him.”

Aaron then turns to Y/n's teenage brother, Leon, who was standing next to him silently watching the events unfold.

"I'm sorry my nephew accidentally knocked your brother over."

Leon shrugs. “My dog does it all the time. It isn't anything new.”

Aaron chuckles. "Well, you gentlemen, have an amazing rest of your day."

And as they walked back to wherever they came from, Miles waved to Y/n.

—————

III. Briarwood vs. Montgomery Elementary school field day - EST. 2011

Miles thought Y/n looked silly, watching him emerge from the bathroom wearing a shirt ten times bigger than the one he’d just been wearing. Not too long ago, he’d been pushed fell into ice water when the kids were all instructed to go and grab a juice of their choice from the overly large cooler under the Pavillon.

Today, Miles’ and Y/n’s school were having a field day. It was supposed to be a competition, but it turned into a lot of fun when the kids from both schools started to become friends with each other.

That was cool with Miles, until his his best friend TJ suddenly took interest in playing with Y/n’s best friend Kaiden. This wouldn’t have been an issue if the teachers didn’t say to pick a buddy and stick with them. Miles would walk away if he could. But since he couldn’t, he found himself face to face with his worst enemy while his best friend and his worst enemy’s best friend had their own conversation.

“I know you pushed me into the cooler, Miles.”

“No, I didn't.” Miles promptly refuted. “You’re lying.”

“No, I'm not,” Y/n countered. "Because Toby told me, and Toby never lies."

“Well, maybe you don't know Toby as well as you think.”

Y/n took a breath, seemingly in an effort to calm himself down. “If Toby said he seen you push me in the ice box, it’s true.”

“Toby is a liar.”

Suddenly, everyone in the area gasped, never expecting to hear the truthful Toby labelled a liar.

You could have heard a pin drop in the absolute silence. Or, in this instance, swift footsteps and small but powerful hands pushing past a crowd.

“…’Scuse me, 'Scuse me, 'Scuse me.." Toby finally finds himself in front, face to face with his accuser. "You calling me a liar?"

"Um.." Miles freezes. "N-no, no. Of course I'm not.”

"Yes you are." Toby countered, "I heard you when I was over there with Emily"

“That wasn’t me.”

“…So, like I said.” Toby repeats. “You calling me a liar?”

The whole crowd of grade schoolers started to ooh at the interaction. Quite frankly, Miles is terrified. But his Uncle Aaron always told him it’s best to stand his ground.

“So what if I did call you a liar?”

Miles is given a blank look by Toby before he suddenly lunges at him, grabs his shirt forcefully, and yells at him.

“I am NOT a liar! My grandma told me I’m a good boy and I believe her! Take it back right now, squiggles!”

Squiggles?

“Fellas, fellas!” Miles’ friend Harry butted in, pulling them apart.

“I’m sorry.” Toby said. “I lost control.”

“That’s fine, but I think I know how to fix this.”

Less than two minutes later, Harry had them in court—whatever that means—and all Miles could wonder was where is my teacher?

Harry clears his throat and begins to talk, but is shortly interrupted by his friend (and sidekick), Walter. “We are gathered here today because- wait, what? Oh, sorry that’s for a wedding. ORDER IN THE COURT!”

Let’s just say, Miles pleaded guilty to pushing Y/n into the cooler that afternoon and was given a stern talking to by his best friends when they made it back to their school.

————

IV. Brooklyn Museum - EST. 2012

“Alright, kids! Single file, single file!” Miles’ teacher yelled as the students piled off the bus.

Today, Miles’ elementary school—along with seemingly every other elementary school in the district—have taken a trip to the local museum.

In all honesty, Miles would have preferred to stay at home, but he had no choice. Particularly because when they returned to school, he was given an exhibit to write about. Everyone takes advantage of the opportunity for a free grade!

When all of the children exited the bus, the chaperones divided the single group into smaller groups. Miles voluntarily zoned out for a moment while his group waited patiently for the final few groups to form.

He forced a smile on his face and gave himself a mental pep talk to try and convince himself that this will have a positive outcome. Surprisingly, it was working. But little did he know…

MEANWHILE…

“ALRIGHT, MONTGOMERY!”

“ALRIGHT, MS. BROWN!”

Ms Brown explains that the students will be placed into groups, and must pick a buddy within their groups. They must stay with their buddy and near their chaperones. You know, the usual.

“Do I make myself clear?” Ms Brown asks after the brief explanation.

“Yes Ms. Brown!” The kids reply.

“Alright!” She smiles, grabbing the roster from her seat. “If I call your name, you are in Mr. Kyle’s group!”

Today, Y/n’s school—along with every other elementary school in kings county—were being forced to go on a trip to a children’s museum.

The idea of visiting a museum made Y/n anxious. He had never visited this museum before and had no idea what to expect. For the record, he was expecting dinosaur fossils because, well, he's deathly afraid of dinosaurs. That would be kept a secret from others. Think about how people would respond if the cool, chill Y/N Y/L/N admitted to having a fear of dinosaurs. Y/n doesn't know and never hopes to find out.

Realistically, he could have just dropped the form in a puddle, let his dog eat it, or "forgotten" to get it signed, but his teacher made it his mission to let Y/n's parents know about the trip before the school day was over.

Thanks a lot, Mr. Kyle.

Y/n made the mistake of looking around as the kids, who have now been divided into groups, pile haphazardly off of the yellow school bus.

Unfortunately, Miles also made the same decision at the same time and the two boys unavoidably made eye contact.

Could this day get any worse?

—————-

V. Brooklyn Medical - EST. 2014

Y/n emerges from room 212 with a group of friends and a relaxed look on his face. If people didn't know any better, they would believe that he killed someone right here in the hospital and had no problem with it. But in all honesty, he was on his way back from a visit with his cousin TJ.

In an attempt to skateboard with Y/n and his friends, TJ broke his arm. But if you asked TJ to explain to an adult what happened, he rolled down a hill. Both boys were not yet allowed to ride a skateboard, especially not without an adult present or the necessary equipment, but he wanted to protect his cousin and himself, so blaming the hill seemed like the best course of action.

For Y/n, TJ was always like a breath of fresh air; he was different from the people he hung out with at school, from the people in his area, and even from his immediate family. He thought TJ understood him completely, and he never once thought he needed to disown him. Aside from perhaps the now, when he realizes that TJ is still in fact friends with one Miles Morales.

“Miles?” Y/n speaks softly, surprised, squinting to make sure he’s seeing things correctly. Y/n’s friends leave almost immediately upon seeing Miles’ face.

“Oh hey, Y/n!” Mike’s replied. "I heard that TJ fractured his arm because of you. Disappointed, but not surprised.”

“Actually, it isn’t my fault this time.” Y/n shrugs. "Why are you here anyway?"

“Because TJ is my best friend,” Miles said as if it were the most obvious thing in the world.

“Really? He said that he dropped you.”

“Nope.”

“I don’t believe you.”

“You never do.” Reaching out to Y/n, Miles says while extending his hand. "Allow me to show you something."

“You don’t need to sound so professional.” Y/n responds under his breath, choosing to ignore the tingling sensation Miles' touch had given him in his hand.

“Sorry.” Miles responded, pulling him toward the front desk to ask for TJ’s room number.

“Where are we going, Morales?” Y/n asked, growing tired of being pulled around.

“To ask which room TJ is in.”

“212.” Y/n curtly responds, nodding his head toward TJ's room.

Miles reads the signs and guides himself and Y/n in the direction of room 212. After finding the room, Miles peaks his head in the doorway and tells Y/n to stay put, to which the boy responds, "I'm not a dog."

“TJ!” Miles yells excitedly, walking into TJ’s room.

“HEY MILES!” TJ yells back, hugging Miles with his left hand because his right one was damaged by the skateboard.

“Your cast is so cool!” Miles yells. “Can I sign it?”

TJ goes to respond when he notices movement at the door.

“Wow,” Y/n lets out an exaggerated sigh, walking into TJ’s hospital room. “I can’t believe you’ve done this.”

“I told him to leave, he wouldn’t leave.” TJ lies terribly. “You’ve gotta believe me.”

“I don’t.” Y/n shrugs before receiving a text message and looking down to see what it said. “My mom asked if you guys want Wendy’s.”

Miles says no to be polite and TJ basically asked for the whole menu. In the end, he ended up with a 4 piece and a frosty. Y/n got a Fanta.

About time Y/n’s parents arrived with the food (and also to retrieve their kid), Y/n despised Miles a little less. Not that he’d ever find that out though.

——————-

VI. Yankee’s Game - EST. 2016

Everyone in the audience holds their breath, sat uncomfortably on the edge of their seat. The Yankees had been behind the entire game, and it's the ninth inning. Jeter had sprained his foot during the sixth, and the Yankees only had about three star players left.

In the hope that his wish come true, Y/n bowed his head and closed his eyes as he began to pray to all the gods and Santa Claus that there’d be a miracle.

He looked up when he heard the crowd cheering, but a fugly red and blue tie-dye shirt sadly blocked his view.

Y/n’s eye twitched and he took a breath to keep his composure, then trailed his vision upwards.

Miles Morales was the perpetrator once again.

“Do you ever go home?” Y/n questions. "Why are you always where I am?"

Miles shrugs and sits stiffly in the empty seat next to Y/n side eyeing him nervously a few times.

“So… how is the the weather?

Y/n gives him a quick blink before returning to the activity.

This is gonna be a really long final inning.

_____

VII. Brooklyn Bridge - EST. 2017

On the trip home from the movie theater, Miles is startled from his nap long blink by a loud "Oh my God, what is that?!" from a few rows behind. Select schools in their county were forced to watch a Nat Geo documentary about Brazilian native animals. Naturally, due to his lack of sleep after staying up late having a solo dance party for quite a bit of the night, Miles slept through it.

However, his dazed state was short-lived as he heard his friend Steven screaming in panic.

"Bro, there's something chasing the fucking bus!"

“Hey! It's crucial that you all keep your composure and refrain from speaking in the same way that Steven did!” Screamed his teacher, Mrs. Nance. “We will all be fine!"

Then, out of nowhere, came a loud thud that landed atop the bus, as if danger itself had been listening in on their conversation.

Mrs. Nance contradicted her statement. "Holy shit, we're all going to die!"

With little explanation and in a hurry, Miles hastily pulled out his phone and texted his parents about the issue. This worried his poor mother, who hurriedly left work and hopped in her car to come get her son.

Miles made the decision to say a quick prayer because they were all genuinely convinced they were only two seconds from dying.

He was about to say amen when a nasty knock on his window forcibly interrupted him. Even though the person who caused it fell, the source of the sound stuck.

There was a web. A very familiar-looking web that Miles was all too familiar with.

"Spider-Man is here!"

As soon as they realized they could be saved, everyone hurried to Miles' side of the bus in joy, but the happiness didn't last long.

A tentacle instantly grabbed Spidey's neck, ripping his mask off his face in the process.

“Welp, nothing to see here! That kids dead.”

Everyone returned to their seats, but Miles remained transfixed.

The face seemed oddly familiar. If only Miles could connect the dots, then-

Miles gasped. "Is that Y/n?"

———-

VII. Brooklyn Visions Academy Valentine’s Day Dance - EST. 2018

“Can you at least smile?” Y/n’s friend Melissa asks him, randomly slapping his forehead to illicit some type of energetic response.

“Yeah, I got you when we’re walking in. We can put on a show for all your pristine rich people friends.”

Melissa rolls her eyes and speaks sarcastically. “That’s the spirit.”

Y/n chuckles for a second until the car comes to a stop in front of the drop off for the dance.

“You mind going in without me? I’ll be in eventually.”

“I don’t trust you not to try to pay off my idiot brother to drop you back off home.” Melissa says. “Let’s go Y/n.”

Y/n sighs and opens the door on his right, stepping out and then holding his hand towards Melissa which she takes happily.

“Smile!” She reminds him, “my dad will be here.”

“Man, fuck yo daddy.”

Melissa deadpanned. “Behave.”

“Why can’t you just tell him that I’m not dating you and the both of us are gay?”

“His image! You know he’s one of the richest men in New York.”

“Nah, I don’t think you’ve said it enough over the four years that I’ve known you. Tell me one more time?”

Melissa slaps his shoulder and he chuckles.

“I’ll behave for you, Melly. But if I see somebody fine, I’m leaving you.”

Melissa shrugs. “Fair enough.”

Finally, the two of them arrive at the school's front door and enter the gym, which has been set up for the event.

Y/n swears he could almost pass out as the smell of several different perfumes suddenly fills his nostrils, but he keeps himself together for Melissa.

“I want something to drink.” Melissa announces, pulling Y/n into the direction of the drink table.

Y/n started to wonder what drinks they’d have available, but unsurprisingly enough there was a large bowl of punch sitting there waiting for them.

“Do you want a cup?”

“Nah.”

As several of Melissa's friends and admirers approach to say hello, Y/n waits at her side.

They had only been here for a few minutes, but it was already starting to get very tiring.

Miles and his friend entered the room, and Y/n swears he has never been happier to see him.

But Miles would never find that out.

“Y/n!” Miles exclaimed before absentmindedly widening his eyes and changing the depth of his voice. “I mean… Y/n, hey.”

Y/n nods. “Morales.”

While Melissa's admirers came and went, the two of them and Miles' friend stood there in awkward silence.

They expected that to continue, but then a group of them first greeted Melissa before heading over to Y/n.

One girl stepped forward and Y/n could tell that the other girls were there merely as moral support.

“Hi! You’re really cute and I-”

Y/n didn’t even look in her direction.“Sorry, I’m gay.”

The girl turned red and the lot of them walked away.

Miles’ friend giggled in the background while Miles himself stared at Y/n incredulously.

“Your mother ever teach you it’s rude to stare, Morales?”

————

VIII. Kings County Schools camping trip - EST. 2019

“For fucks sake, Morales.” Y/n sighed in exasperation. “Go play with your friends or something. You don’t need to follow me around.”

Miles threw his arms up in surrender. “I just want to talk!”

Y/n nodded. “Cool, bro. I support. But you talking doesn’t have to include me.”

“Kind of does, since it’s you I want to talk to.”

“Fuck, okay fine.” Y/n sighs. “Can y’all like… go back to the tent or something? I need to talk to Morales.”

His loud friend Jamari laughs. “GAY! GAY! GAY!”

His other friend Michael sighs and grabs him my the ear, pulling him away. “Shut up, Jamari.”

When his friends are finally out of earshot, he turns to face Miles.

“What’s up, Morales?”

“Well for one, I-“ Miles stopped himself, “Why do you call me that?”

Y/n raised an eyebrow. “Your name?”

“My last name.”

Y/n shrugged. “Feels right.”

“So if I just call you y-“

“No. What do you want?”

Miles took a deep breath. “I seen you!”

“Yeah? When?”

“On the Brooklyn bridge two years ago when I was on a school bus.” Miles said quickly.

“Oh, word? What was I doing?”

“Swinging and flipping and flying and-“

“DANG,” Y/n chuckles. “I almost believed you but last time I checked, humans don’t fly.”

Miles blinked. “You know exactly what I mean.”

Y/n raised an eyebrow. “Do I?”

“Yes!” Miles threw his arms up. “Why do you always deny everything like I don’t have proof?”

“Why do you always lie and say you didn’t push me into the cooler?”

“That wasn’t me.”

“And that guy on the bridge wasn’t me.”

“But I seen you.”

“Everybody has doppelgängers, bro.” Y/n stated nonchalantly. “For all you know, that dude could’ve been named Jimmy.”

“Anyways,” Miles rolls his eyes. “I just wanted to tell you that I know and that your secret is safe with me.”

“There is no secret,” Y/n shrugged, popping a starburst into his mouth. “But, it’s nice to know that if there was a secret, you’d have my back.”

Miles goes to respond to Y/n, but freezes up when he hears something that sounds a lot like a bear growling.

He turns to ask Y/n if he heard it too, but Y/n has already grabbed his hand and started to carefully back the two of them away.

Moments later, Miles' shoe suddenly flies off, and as he races back to get it, the bear charges in their direction.

A lot like the white people in horror movies, Miles fell to the floor and decided to stay there screaming.

With the help of his webs and quick thinking, Y/n easily caught Miles and his sneaker.

So much for not being Spider-Man, right?

When the two of were next to each other again, Miles went to celebrate that he had been right all along when Jamari came around the corner and asked Y/n to play a song on his guitar.

“Yeah,” Y/n said after picking himself up off the ground and dusting himself off. “Tell them that I'll be there soon.”

Jamari nodded before returning to the other campers, and when Y/n was sure that Jamari was gone, he turned to face Miles.

“Tell anybody about this and I’ll steal all your money.”

—————-

IX. Lincoln High vs. Beachside Charter basketball game - EST. 2021

Y/n feels out of his element. It’s the first game after quarantine, and a lot has changed.

For one, there’s little to no people in the crowd. There are a few parents there, all of which look uninterested and have definitely been dragged there by their kids. Uninterested attendees result in little to no interaction among the crowd, which makes Y/n unmotivated and unable to concentrate.

On top of that, a few of his teammates are sick, so the team is definitely not at their best.

Y/n could never see himself saying this before, but he wishes there’d be no basketball season until the world got its shit together.

Not even the mascot is helping, nor the music playing lowly in the background to set the vibe.

The team isn’t doing well right now, and they really need a miracle.

The coach calls timeout and calls the team towards her. She tells them to put forth their best effort, but due to circumstances, she can’t get on them about their performance. She tells them to have fun, and that she won’t make them run laps if they lose.

The boys laugh a little before breaking up and making their way back to the court. Everyone’s spirits became the slightest bit higher after that talk, but Y/n’s spirits definitely lifted when he looked into the crowd and spotted one Miles Morales.

Suddenly, Y/n felt like he had to do his best. Even though Miles was his rival by default.

—————

(+ the One Time You Acted On Them)

X. Kings County Class of 2023 graduation trip: Phoenix Arizona - EST: 2023

Miles cautiously walks towards the edge of the ledge after getting the directions from the best friend of a certain someone. It’s been over a year since they last seen each other and Miles has finally accepted the reason why. Miles likes Y/n—he thinks—and he’s finally ready to confess his feelings. He’s hoping that things go right tonight so that he won’t have to hurl himself over the edge.

“Hey.” He starts, standing behind to Y/n who’s sitting dangerously close to the edge with his legs nearly dangling. “Is this seat taken?”

“You don’t see anyone else sitting there, do you?”

Miles chuckles silently and takes the hint, sitting so close yet so far away from Y/n.

He looks to Y/n and takes in his appearance. Hooded eyes, head tilted back to watch the moon, and a hint of sadness in his eyes as he blows a misty cloud of smoke from his lips.

Now that got Miles’ attention.

“You smoke?”

“It’s a fuckin’ Smartie.” Y/n replies with a blank look after hesitating for longer than he’d care to admit.

Miles giggles before he can stop himself. “Wow, Y/n. How cute of you.”

Y/n roles his eyes. “I told my elementary school teachers I’d never do drugs. I’m no liar.”

Miles chuckled then took a deep breath, leaning back before speaking. “Hey, uh…” Y/n looks at him, “I actually need to talk to you about something.”

“Talk to me.”

“So, um…” Miles starts, playing nervously with his fingers.

“…If you need a moment, I can go get another drink and let you marinate.”

Marinate?

“Where would you be getting a drink from? You’re underage.”

Y/n shrugs. “I know a guy.”

“You know more than one!” A random guy whisper yells from the bushes.

“Not now, Carl!” Y/n whisper yells back through gritted teeth. “My bad, Morales. You found your words yet?”

“Yeah, uh…” Miles takes a deep breath. “I know when we were kids we had our differences, but I feel like we’ve come a long way since then. I mean, you haven’t death glared me in a while, and I haven’t pushed you in a cooler since before we were like five.”

“I knew that was you.”

“Uh- Yeah, I’m sorry.” Miles scratches the back of his neck. “Anyway, what I’m trying to say is…”

“So this is a love confession, right?”

“Um…”

“Okay, let me stop you there.” Y/n starts, standing up to his feet. “You like me, and I just so happen to not hate you, so I think we have a deal.”

“A deal?”

“Yeah, we can be the next Nick and Charlie but better looking.”

“That one guy is cute.” Miles points out.

“Is he?” Miles nods at Y/n’s question. “Mm, okay.”

“So what now?” Miles asks. “Am I your boyfriend?”

“Perhaps…”

“Perhaps?”

“Nah, I’m just kidding. You can be my Soulja Bae.”

“I hate it here.”

Y/n chuckles and takes another hit from his smarties. “Anything else?”

“Yeah, two things.”

“You’re Spider-Man.”

“You knew?”

“You’re not as discreet as you think you are.” Y/n shrugs, standing up and dusting his pants off, then reaching a hand out to Miles. “Let’s go get some drinks, yeah?”

Miles smiled and took Y/n’s outstretched hand. “Yeah.”

© forever1kay, 2023

[featheredclover]

Carmine Veils

Chapter Four

Read from the beginning

Chapter Three< > Chapter Five

Also on Wattpad

“ Arnav?”

“ hmm?”

“ Why did you leave China if it appealed to you so much?”

His hands stilled as they were running through her hair, as she lay her head on his lap. Putting his book aside, he sighed.

“ I was needed here. This is home, after all I went there only to further my training….”

“Needed here?”

“ Yes “

Khushi smiled as she recalled one of those rendezvous they had managed to sneak in amidst moonless nights.

She was still getting used to his succinct replies. He never elaborated, or break into a story like she does. His eyes spoke to her more than his lips and that was fine with her. She would be lying to herself that his mysterious nature wasn’t appealing. But she desperately wanted to unravel the man, the boy , her Arnav.

A pillow hit the back of her head squarely. She turned around to see Payal with an uncharacteristic grin on her face.

“ What? “ Khushi croaked out.

“ You seemed too lost in your thoughts and that’s why I thought it was my utmost duty to bring our precious rajkumari back to earth” Payal drawled out lazily.

“ Rubbish” Khushi muttered and hit the pillow back.

Payal caught it, and started playfully twirling it .

“ You are back to your senses rajkumari. Or so says Manorama ji! You really disappointed her the past few weeks by the way. Her cherished student was becoming a damsel in distress!”

Khushi rolled her eyes in exasperation.

“ I was used to a certain lifestyle Payal. I was used to privacy. That’s why I was thrown off. And the rioters attack bothered me of course so I couldn’t focus well”

“ So he doesn’t bother you anymore?”

Khushi stilled for a moment, recovering quickly she asked as nonchalantly as possible “ Who?”

“ The china-man “ Payal replied shamelessly.

“ You think I didn’t notice? Your glares aimed at Lavanya and me. What caused you to escape to the forest? And the anguished expression you had plastered on your face after Lavanya painted his name across his bandaged arm?”

When Khushi remained silent, Payal persisted softly

“ You are in love with Arnav, aren’t you?”

Khushi looked helplessly at Payal. Frustrated at the tug and pull, she breathed out and exclaimed “ Yes! Yes I am. Who wouldn’t be?!”

Ignoring her exasperation, Payal sat next to Khushi, gently placing a hand on her shoulder.

“ Does he love you back?”

Khushi opened her mouth before pausing.

Did he love her? He had claimed her lips, bit her, and kissed her like a lover was supposed to do.Just like she had read in the kamasutra last year. Payal and Lavanya had giggled all the way through those lessons Manorama ji so sincerely and painstakingly attempted to teach.

“ I think so. I hope so”

“ Khushi”, Payal began as her voice lost all the earlier teasing, “ Speak to him. Raja ji is not so harsh that he won’t be able to see where his daughter’s happiness lies .”

Khushi looked up at that with uncertainty evident on her face.

Payal clutched her hand tightly in hers.

“ Speaking with the raj reeti-reewaz in mind, I assure you Arnav is a high grade warrior. You’ll only earn a mild resistance from the court for your union”

Khushi broke into a sweat.

“ Payal , I haven’t… we haven’t even….”

“ Of course Khushi it’s upto you. But I have never seen you like this. Not even when the dashing Rajkumar of Videha came to visit!”

The friends burst into giggles as they fondly remembered the first boy Khushi had been flustered over when she was sixteen. But the eighteen year old prince was awkward, embarrassed and too polite to all of Khushi’s innocent flirtations.

“ Are you meeting him today ? “ Payal asked with a smile.

“ No. But I’ll surprise him! Will I be the first woman to ask for a man’s hand in marriage?”

Khushi asked as she twirled and placed a stray dupattta over her head, mimicking a ghoonghat.

Payal was quick to join in and mimicked Manorama’s scowl perfectly as she spoke in an uncanny resemblance “ But Khushi bitiya, who do you have to fear from? Focus! “

Their giggles filled the air, as the sun began to paint the sky in purple hues.

—————————

“ You aren’t wearing white today?”

Khushi looked at Arnav with happiness in her heart.

“ You like me in white? “

“ I like you in anything…..But white reminds me of our first meeting”

“ Of course! You were also wearing white!”

“ Yes “ Arnav said with a sly grin “ which you ripped off without a word”

Khushi gasped and blushed furiously. Turning to let her back face him. “ I didn’t- I wasn’t..uggh “

Laughingly Arnav pulled her back to face him. Kissing her softly , he moved to her ear to whisper “ I didn’t mind”

Khushi ran her hands through the white lehenga and choli, which had silver zari border. She had never worn it .

In fact the royal darzi had disapproved the choice of such a bland colour on his rajkumari. If he had his wish, all navy blues and brown would find themselves out of her chambers. She will don his favourite colour and ask him to marry her.

She will have to convince him. This was going to be no easy task and he would be at the core of the fire they would begin with their decision. But she hoped for her love to be enough to sail them through this. And if he loved her….he loved her didn’t he?

Pushing all doubts to the side, Khushi began to dress.

——————-

Walking along the corridors of her palace discreetly, Khushi stopped a distance away from his chambers. Drawing in a deep breath of courage she prepared herself to go ahead, when she saw the door open slowly. Startled, she hid into an alcove by her side.

She saw Arnav, clothed in black robes. In a few strides he moved towards the palace exit.

Bewildered Khushi followed him and her heart raced as she saw him enter a chariot and leave out of the palace gates.

Khushi ran to the section of her palace dedicated to the royal staff, and quickly knocked on a door she knew wouldn’t refuse her.

__________

Hari Prakash held the reins in his hand as he urged his horses to go faster. It had taken the utmost of his skills, to detect the black carriage in the pitch black night. But his rajkumari had never asked for his help without reason and so here he was, flouting all protocols to help the woman he had seen grow up over the years chase god-knows-who.

Khushi stepped out softly. Hariprakash would be on stand by as she figured out why Arnav had come here in the dead of the night. After promising an anxious Hari Prakash to return swiftly and safely, she rushed after where Arnav had disappeared. She made sure her steps made no noise.

Her vision soon registered a fire and a group of people sitting around it. Arnav stepped forward.

“ Babu bhai” he bowed in respect

“ Jeete raho Arnav “ the man grunted out in between taking sips from his hookah.

“ Arnav, we gave you a date didn’t we! We need to send a strong message. And we need to do it now!” another man said.

“ We have already lost a man and-“

“ And whose fault is that? “ Arnav interrupted harshly.

“ I told you didn’t I? That I would take care of it? The things inside the palace are not as easy as it is here”

Babu bhai spoke up again ” Arnav that Shashidhar has refused all our demands and is out to avenge that village! We need his daughter dead and you couldn’t bring her body to us in the month you have been there?”

Khushi felt like a nightmare had descended upon her. Her legs felt like rubber. Her chest tightened as her breathing got shallow.

She needed to leave. These men…and Arnav were after her. She needed to leave.

In her distraction, a pile of leaves crunched under her foot.

It all happened in a moment as she turned around to flee. An arrow pierced her shoulder. Screams and shout filled the air.

Paying the excruciating pain no heed, she ran with all her might towards her carriage. She had barely jumped into it, when Hari Prakash rode away at break neck speed.

Back in the forest, the crowd of men dispersed to look for the intruder.

Arnav stepped steadily towards the site from where the sound was heard.

He bent forward and found a veil drenched in blood. A carmine veil.

Chapter Five >>

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[kimosims]

Primrose had spent the entire day mentally preparing to talk to Heinrich, yet she couldn’t seem to find him anywhere! It was only after hours of waiting that he finally appeared in the kitchen, bringing with him that strange flutter in her stomach—the same unsettling feeling that had stirred the night before. This is it, she thought. The moment to set her charm into motion. She had always been able to win people over, so why should this time be any different?

But it was. Indeed, it felt different. Wrong.

Heinrich was as polite and attentive as ever, but his responses lacked the enthusiasm Primrose had anticipated. His mind seemed elsewhere, his focus drifting in and out of the conversation, leaving her feeling increasingly off-balance. Maybe she had lost it—her precious charm?

Trying to lighten the mood, Primrose offered a hopeful smile. “Do you want to hear a joke?” she asked, leaning in slightly.

Heinrich glanced at her, curiosity piqued. “A joke?”

“Yes!” she said, a bit too enthusiastically. “Alright, here it is: Why did the bicycle fall over?”

Heinrich blinked, clearly unsure where this was going. “Why?”

“Because it was... two-tired!” Primrose grinned, expecting a laugh.

Heinrich stared for a moment, then gave a polite, hesitant chuckle. It was clear he didn’t get it, or at least he hoped he didn’t. “Ah... I see.”

The silence that followed was unbearable, so she tried again. “Anyway, enough about my jokes. What’s been keeping you busy today? I couldn’t seem to find you.”

“Oh,” Heinrich responded, snapping out of his distant thoughts. “I’ve been... talking with Violet.”

Primrose’s heart skipped a beat. “Violet?” she asked, keeping her tone as casual as possible, though it was difficult with her insides twisting. “Did you speak with her again after yesterday?”

Heinrich nodded, his eyes brightening a little. “Yes, we spent many hours talking. She’s... quite interesting.”

Primrose’s heart sank further, though she forced a smile to mask her disappointment. “I see,” she said quietly. “Interesting, you say? Not odd?”

“Oh, she did say you usually call her that!” Heinrich smiled—and for the first time during that entire conversation, it seemed genuine. “But I don’t think so. She just has such a unique way of seeing the world.”

Primrose could barely muster a response. “How... lovely.”

As she walked down the corridor afterward, her mind buzzed with indignation, and her stomach twisted like knots tied by a seasoned sailor. So that’s it, she thought. It wasn’t that her charm was failing or that she had lost it. It was simply that, no matter what she did, it wouldn’t work on Heinrich. He was already ensnared—and by Violet, of all people.

How? And how could it be her?

No rational thoughts surfaced, only a deep, simmering sense of injustice. She felt wronged—by her sister, by Heinrich, by the world. Logic had never been her strength, but now her emotions roared within her, demanding an answer, demanding a confrontation.

In the dim light of the gas lamp, Violet returned to the room they were sharing after a quick trip to the toilet, a frown tugging at her lips as she sensed a heavy air in the room. Primrose perched on the edge of her bed, her silhouette tense against the shadows. All day, an odd tension had woven itself between them, and Violet had hoped that the brief separation would ease whatever disquiet lingered—it usually did.

“Primrose?” Violet ventured, though everything in her being urged her not to. “Is everything—”

“What is wrong with you?” Primrose’s voice cut through the air, sharp and accusatory.

Violet blinked, taken aback by the sudden outburst. “What do you mean? I just came back from the bathroom. Why are you acting like this?”

Primrose clenched her fists, agitation simmering just beneath her surface. “You spend so much time trying to impress everyone else! I’ve stood by while you parade around, acting as if you’re somehow superior to everyone!”

Confusion flooded Violet’s mind, her heart racing at the accusation. “What? I don’t understand!”

“Oh! I’m Violet! I’m so different and unique! I’m nothing like my useless, dumb sister!” Primrose continued, her voice rising. “You’ve made it all about you, and I’m left in your wake!”

“Sister, I have no idea what you’re...” Violet’s voice wavered, her eyes narrowing. Wait. Was her sister jealous? She finally seemed to start to understand what was going on. “Is this truly about Heinrich?” Her tone was not only accusatory—the disappointment was palpable. “A boy you hardly know?”

Primrose felt her chest tighten, cheeks flushing with the weight of unsaid fears. It wasn’t merely about Heinrich; it was about the gnawing dread that she would always be seen as less than Violet, a shadow cast by her sister’s elegance and uniqueness. Yet, admitting this fear felt too raw, too exposed to voice. The girl struggled to respond, the lump in her throat growing larger—the shame of the moment felt unbearable. She could see the pain in Violet’s eyes, and it crushed her. Admitting her true fears would only drive them further apart, and the thought filled her with a deep sadness she couldn’t escape.

The silence stretched on, taut like a drawn bowstring. Violet’s head hung low, tears of indignation mingling with the weight of loss. The bond they had nurtured for years felt fragile, and it was clear to both of them that their relationship was nearing teetering on the brink of irrevocable change.

Finally, unable to bear the intensity of the moment any longer, Primrose turned away, her heart heavy with regret. She felt the sting of unshed tears prick at her eyes and knew she had to escape. Fleeing the room, her footsteps echoed down the corridor, leaving Violet behind in the oppressive quiet that settled around her.

[froizetta]

WIP Wednesday!

I've tried to mostly post excerpts from unpublished stuff for WIP Wednesday, but I'm kinda running out of bits that work out of context. So instead, have an out-of-context excerpt from chapter 4 of (Love) Triangles. I've decided it's not spoilers actually because it's Bruce Wayne and Clark Kent meeting at basically-a-gala and like. Of COURSE that was gonna happen this chapter. Come on now.

He hadn’t expected to see the cute reporter from the bar last week at tonight’s event; Kent’s name hadn’t been on the guest list. But there he was, standing by himself in a secluded corner, frowning at something on the other side of the room. Bruce followed his gaze but only saw an unremarkable selection of attendees and the canapé table. To all appearances, the man was just staring into the middle distance, looking frustrated and mildly queasy. Most likely, he was feeling out of his element here, Bruce thought. He certainly looked it, hunched over by the wall in a cheap, rented tux that was clearly two sizes too big.

Bruce felt himself frown. It was frankly criminal that he managed to hide that ridiculously perfect body under such unflattering clothes. It honestly felt like a waste. Just like the first time they’d met, Bruce was hit with the irrational urge to tell him to stand up straight and give him the number of his tailor.

Hm. He seemed to be turning into Alfred at the ripe old age of 29. Maybe the man had a point about diversifying his social pool.

But still, disappointing wardrobe aside, Kent had been a more than pleasant temporary distraction. Pleasant, and shockingly…vigorous. Kent had certainly seemed satisfied as well, and thoroughly enough that he didn’t so much as stir while Bruce made his way out of the suite after he’d fallen asleep.

A pleasant heat curled in Bruce’s belly at the memory. The encounter had been playing on his mind in the intervening week, more than he’d expected. Now wasn’t the time for anything like that, but…perhaps if he played his cards right tonight, Kent could be persuaded into a repeat performance?

It was certainly worth a try.

He slid a hand into his pocket and sauntered over. “Clark!” he called out brightly.

Kent blinked as if startled and looked over as he approached. His blue, blue eyes widened in shock. “Bru— Mr. Wayne?” he stammered.

“Oh, Clark, I thought I finally got you to call me Bruce!” he said in mock dismay. He smiled then, slow and wicked. “Several times, in fact, by my fond recollection.”

As predicted, Kent flushed. Bruce had quickly discovered during their first meeting that Kent was an easy blusher, which made teasing him very rewarding. He edged a little closer, just a touch more so than was friendly, and said lowly, “You know, I’ve been thinking about you all week. How's my favorite reporter been getting on? Well, I hope?”

He expected Kent’s initial surprise to resolve into a bashful smile. But instead, those captivating eyes hardened and his mouth twisted into a frown. “I think I’ll stick with Mr. Wayne, thanks,” he said coolly. “I’d like to keep things professional, if possible.”

Bruce’s grin faltered.

Hm. Maybe aiming for a repeat performance was an ambitious plan after all.

He stepped away to give the man his space back, palms up in a gesture of easy surrender. “Of course. I didn’t mean to get…you know. Overexcited. I take it you’re here for business rather than pleasure?”

“With all due respect, Mr. Wayne,” Kent said, in a tone that suggested that the amount due was a little over none, “this isn’t exactly the kind of place I’d come to for pleasure.”

“A pity,” he said lightly. “I find it extremely rewarding to mix the two myself.”

Kent huffed. “And here I thought you were on a strict diet of the latter.”

Bruce raised an eyebrow at the bitterness in his tone. It wasn’t exactly an unfair comment, but…

“Honestly, Clark, I don’t know why you’re acting so sore all of a sudden,” he said with a polite frown. “I mean, if either of us was gonna be sore after that night, I really think it should be me, with the way you—”

“Bruce,” Kent hissed, eyes wide and scandalized.

“Hm. So we’re back to Bruce now, huh?”

Kent let out a soft groan of frustration. His gaze darted around the room as if expecting the eyes and ears of the assembled guests to be on him. Seeing that the other guests were, on the whole, more preoccupied with depleting LexCorp’s catering stock and pretending to enjoy mind-numbing small talk, he returned his attention to Bruce. “Mr. Wayne,” he said stiffly. “Could I speak with you in private for a moment?”

This wasn’t exactly the exit from the party floor he’d been aiming for, but Bruce was nothing if not adaptable. Facing off with a former lover would work just as well for the cover. He smiled his most charming smile, just to the left and down a bit from obsequious. “Lead the way.”

[nonexistent-introvert]

Opportunities (pt 2 of train ride)

Pairing: Joel Miller x f!reader

Word Count: 2.4k

Synopsis: Joel started falling for you but it was too late.

content: moving on, finding someone new, angst, Joel losing his chances

A/N: Thanks @littleshadow17 for the idea, although I'm not sure if I did it justice. I seriously underestimated how much time I have been away, sorry it took so long!

Train ride 1

   Joel basked in the applause after his performance. His eyes scanned the crowd for a particular someone, for the person who had supported him since his very first performance. He felt himself pursing his lips together when the usual seat you usually sat at was empty, occupied by a group of friends instead. He tried his best to suppress the disappointment forming in his heart.

   He was packing his things up from the stage when a woman approached him. “Hi, I really like your performances and I was hoping you could grab a drink with me?” Joel looked at her, she was conventionally attractive, with long wavy hair with dimples that complimented her smile. Joel noticed the group of girls behind her, watching their interaction eagerly, giggling to themselves. He recognized her, she wasn’t lying about being a fan. She was in the crowd for the past few weeks now, enjoying the music he played. Joel noticed because she and her friends always occupied the seat that you once occupied. Joel smiled a polite smile. “I’m sorry, but I have somewhere to be. Thanks for your support.” He replied, swinging the guitar case over his shoulder and heading out. 

   It’s Valentine’s Day. Couples filled the streets, the bright red palette of colours occupied shop displays. Couples were huddled together under umbrellas, giggling and laughing among themselves.  Joel was in a daze, the soft music of romance songs playing in his ears as he watched the rain before him while waiting for the bus. An emptiness growing in his heart, maybe he should have accepted the invitation for a drink. It’s not like he had any plans after, but he still rejected the attractive woman, still lied that he had somewhere to be. It was instinctive but why did he behave that way? He didn’t know either.

  His thumb hovered over your chat. His last message is still marked with two grey ticks. His sentiments were delivered but not yet noticed. He sighed in disappointment. 

  You were the reason. 

  You were the one he wanted to spend Valentine day with. 

==============

   Paul wasn’t Joel. He wasn’t Joel in every aspect. Paul wore his heart on his sleeve while Joel was like a puzzle. Paul didn’t get annoyed when you playfully splashed rain water onto him, he even played along. It was easy being with Paul, he made conversation, jokes around and listens to you. Most importantly? Paul was head over heels for you. 

   “I’ll call you.” Paul promised, his dimpled smile showing.You smiled, nodding. His hands were still enveloped in yours, unwilling to let go. “Thank you for dinner. For today.” You thanked him. “I’m just glad you liked it. Happy Valentine day, thank you for not rejecting me.” He joked. You let out a chuckle, leaning in closer to press a kiss onto his cheek. Paul’s eyes widened, unable to believe what had just happened. His left hand left yours to gently touch the same spot on his cheek. He watched as your cheeks turned red. “You’re making it very hard to leave.” He muttered, hands still ghosting the spot your lips had touched. You shook your head at him, “Shoo, it’s getting late. By the time you get home I’ll be fast asleep and you can forget about calling me.” You gently pushed him away from your doorstep and closed the door on him. You continued watching Paul through the peak hole on your door. He grinned to himself, casting one last glance at your door before walking away with a bounce in his step. 

   “Dinner?” The first message was from Joel. You grimaced, you haven’t checked your phone since you met Paul for dinner. You frowned before typing out a simple apology. “Sorry, didnt check my phone.” You stared at the message, wondering if you should elaborate. Just a few months ago, you would have given up anything to spend some time with him yet now you half mindedly replied him while admiring the flowers that Paul had bought you. 

   It was ironic how you had met Paul because of Joel. 

================

    The warm spotlights danced softly on Joel’s tanned skin. His brown eyes shining exceptionally bright with the help of the light. Your eyes drank him in as though he’s going to fade from your view. In the soft timbre of his guitar, you could let yourself fall in love with him without reality reminding you of how he truly felt for you. 

   “Your boyfriend’s really talented.” 

   Your head turned at the voice of a stranger. Giving him a polite smile, you shook your head. “He’s not my boyfriend.” The man looked surprised to hear that, his eyebrows raised in question. “Oh? Sorry I just assumed because the both of you always leave together after and you look at him with such- intensity.” You cringed at his words, were you that obvious? The man shook his head, seemingly embarrassed at his own choice of words. “Shit, now I sound like a creep and a stalker which I swear im not!” He put up his hands in defence and you couldn’t help but laugh at the man’s antics. “I’m Paul and I work part time as a bartender there. You just happened to catch my eye every time.” Paul gestures to the small bar in the corner. You gave him a nod and introduced yourself, completely missing Paul’s attempt at flirting with you. 

   Conversation flowed easily between the both of you. Paul and you even shared many similar interests, brought up by Paul when he noticed the pins on your bag. Your heart soared at finding someone one who was as passionate about video games as you. Most people your age enjoyed more competitive games than the in depth story telling games you preferred. You were so indulged in the conversation that you completely forgot about Joel’s performance. 

  Joel let out an exhale. His eyes finally searching the crowd for a familiar face. The one that he knew exactly where to find. He couldn’t help the frown that formed on his lips when he realised that your eyes weren’t already on his. That you weren’t already smiling with pride while giving him encouraging nods and applauding for him. Your eyes were instead focused on the man sitting beside you, his grin so bright that he could spot it from a mile away. 

   “Oh, your boyfriend is coming to pick you up.” Paul teased, watching Joel walk down the stage, his eyes focused on you. You chuckled, rolling your eyes at him. “I told you, he’s not-” You didn’t finish your sentence, deciding to bury the hope with the whiskey that Paul had bought you while talking to you. Paul watched Joel, biting back a grin. Joel’s shoulders was tensed, an evident frown on his face. Despite what you said about Joel never seeing you that way, Paul would beg to differ. Paul hid his grin behind his hand, his fingers splayed across his mouth. He sat up straighter when you waved him goodbye and Joel waited patiently beside you. 

   “Since he’s not your boyfriend, you wouldn’t mind going on a date with me right?”

   You felt Joel tense from beside you. The alcohol in your veins giving you newfound confidence. “You have my number.” You replied, Paul laughed. “Don’t worry, I’ll be sure to use it.” Paul glanced towards Joel who  clenched his jaw. Honestly, Joel looked intimidating but Paul was never one to back down from a challenge and he was always known as being an overachiever.   Paul watched as you followed behind Joel, newfound determination shining in his eyes. 

===============

   Joel’s eyes followed you in the crowd. It was like having a spotlight over you which made you stand out. He smiled knowingly as he watched you enter the cafe he was in, eager to pick up your coffee. Joel immediately stood up, holding onto your usual coffee order and approached you. 

   It would be a lie to say that you didn’t notice Joel approaching. Even if your feelings for him wasn’t as intense as a year ago, you knew he still had some sort of hold over you, considering he was the first person you loved so deeply for despite it being unrequited. You grimaced, knowing that the both of you had drifted a lot over the year. Without watching his performances and trying to get ahold of him everytime, your time spent with him was significantly lesser. It had pained you when you first realised. 

   “Hey.” Joel gave you his signature boyish smile. The smile that once made your heart pace. You nodded back at him, his voice sounded foreign, it’s been too long since the both of you spoke. “I..um- got you your usual order. If you’re down for a chat.” Joel shuffled, trying to shake off the nerves. “We haven’t talked for a long while.” Your eyes widened slightly at the offer. “Oh, um- Paul is waiting for our coffee order now.” You pointed to Paul who was standing near the counter. Joel stepped backwards, “oh. I guess I’ll just leave them.” He knew he sounded like a loser, he felt that way too. You immediately stopped Joel, taking the coffee from him. “Take a seat. Paul has something on soon, I’m sure he won’t mind.” Joel sat down, wiping his palms against his jeans. It really has been too long. 

   The usual silence fell again between the both of you. Joel played with his hands, he guessed that didn’t change. You rubbed your neck, you didn’t feel the need to fill the silence anymore, taking the time to ponder about your workload later. The roles have been reversed. 

   “Coffee for you. How else may I help you today ma’am?” The sound of Paul’s playful tone made you laugh. Paul quickly glanced at the coffee that you always ordered already on the table. “Oh, Joel! Hello. I don’t think we officially met.” Joel nodded, putting on a facade. Joel’s heart sank when he saw you choose Paul’s coffee over his, what was he expecting? Paul glanced at his watch, “I see you’re in good hands, I’ll leave the both of you.” Paul excused himself before giving you a peck on the cheek as he strode off. You knew Paul well enough to know that he left early on purpose. He knew about your feelings for Joel, “it was kinda obvious not gonna lie.” Paul had commented. The fact that Paul trusted you enough to leave you alone with Joel was enough to tell you how much he loved you. The encouraging smile he left with, silently egging you on. He knew there were some matters between Joel and you that were left unresolved. 

   Joel’s fists were clenched tightly as they rested on his lap. He was practically staring daggers at Paul when he kissed you. If he was childish enough, maybe he would even trip Paul over as he left. He only watched enviously as you looked at Paul like he was your world and vice versa. 

   “Are we going to talk or just sit in silence?” You started, resisting the urge to add on that most moments between the both of you were silence anyways. Joel cleared his throat, sitting up in his seat. “He keeping your bed warm?” You scoffed, is this really how he’s going to start? By insinuating that Paul was just a friend with benefits. “He’s much more than that.” You clarified quickly, drumming your fingers against the surface of the table softly. Joel wasn’t sure if the drumming was on purpose but the band over your ring finger caught his attention nonetheless. Joel swallowed, staring at it with contempt although he remained a poker face. His heart tightened with unbearable pressure. 

   “He proposed. I agreed.” You simply explained, following his gaze. “He treating you right?” Joel asked. “More than right. He’s going above. Always had to be an overachiever.” You chuckled lightly at how Paul always brushed off gestures as him overachieving. “I thought you said you hated overachievers?” Your eyes widened slightly, a passing remark that you doubted he would remember.  You claimed that overachievers were always perfectionists and wet blankets which was the complete opposite of you.  “Well- unlike charges attract I guess.” You shrugged. He sighed, staring off into the distance. “I never thought you’d be the type to date, much less get married,”  Joel remarked. You pressed your lips into a thin line, the times when you brushed everything he said off were over. 

   “What’s wrong with you?” You snapped. Joel’s eyes widened, his jaw agape. A look of confusion on his face. You shook your head in disappointment. “I don’t know what you want Joel. I’m getting married and you’re here making all these… pointless remarks.” Joel sucked in a breath, straightening his posture. “I want you back. I want to spend time with you.” He confessed. Joel watched as your shoulders sunk, a frown on your face. “More like the attention I gave you.” “You know that’s not true.” He hissed. You shook your head, laughing a little. “Really? All the time I tagged along behind you only to be treated like a shadow. It’s not like we have much in common anyways Joel.” You let out all the pent-up frustration inside of you. Joel didn’t have a right. Joel’s expression darkened, he looked away from you, as though just realizing the consequences of his actions. “Is there really nothing between us?” He questioned, his brown eyes looking into yours. The same eyes that made your heart flutter. You laughed and chuckled at him. It was all so ironic to you now. “You don’t know how long I’ve waited to hear you say something along those lines.” You watched as some figment of hope glistened in his eyes. “But it's all in the past now. Paul is perfect.” It was cruel, seeing the hope in his eyes being extinguished, how his jaw tightened. It was cruel and yet, it was what he once put you through. 

    Joel shuffled his feet, his gaze on the floor. Finally realising that he had missed his chance and let you slip through his fingers. “Congrats then. For finding him. Just-” Joel looked up, biting his lip slightly. “Be happy, if he does you wrong, I’ll personally beat him up for ya.” You smiled, nodding slightly. “I hope you find someone soon too.” Joel merely shrugged. 

    “Is everything ok?” It was a message from Paul. 

    “It will be.” You replied as you left Joel behind in that cafe. 

   Joel continued staying in that cafe, letting himself reflect on everything that had happened. When enough time has passed, maybe he’ll finally find the will in himself to leave the cafe. However, for now, he’s stuck right where you had left him.  

[bihanspookies]

Same Sides, Different Coin

Summary: 3 weeks after their talk at the bar, JJ gets another chance encounter with Alora.

References made to The Fuck Up.

Warnings: None really, just drinking

JJ couldn’t get Alora out of his head no matter how hard he tried. The way she spoke, how she carried herself, her attitude, her aura— everything was permanently etched into his mind like a tattoo and he wanted more of her. He constantly thought about the way her eyes shined under the cheap lights of the bar, the harsh yellow contrasting against her tan skin and how it gave a sort of mood lighting on the scars that decorated her face.

She looked even better under the moonlight of the night sky and god did she smell so divine when her scent wasn’t mixed in with the awful odors of beer, piss and who knows what else. Every time he thought about it he swore he could faintly smell it: clean clothes and something fruity but not overly powerful. Something subtle… grapes maybe? Did they even make grape scented things?

JJ shakes his head and scoffs lightly, being brought back to the present. It’s been about three weeks since that night and he has not stopped thinking about Alora. He came to the bar the last two Saturdays in hopes he would catch her, nevermind the lie he blurted out that he was there on those days, but she never showed. He had waited until it was closing time, the bartender politely telling him that he had to close his tab. JJ admitted that he was slightly disappointed, a part of him knowing that there was no way in hell that a member of the Black Dragon would willingly meet up with someone who was associated with Special Forces.

No way in hell.

He lets out a heavy sigh, calling the bartender over with a wave of his hand to close out his tab. It’s the same girl from his past three visits, offering a kind and sympathetic smile to JJ when she’s close enough,

“You waitin’ for that pretty girl again?” She says, collecting his glass, eager to hear his response. JJ can’t help but smile, his mouth curling up at the memory at Alora’s pretty face.

“Yeah… kinda pathetic huh?” He chuckles, fishing out a rolled up wad of cash from his pocket and pulling a bill from it. He slides it over to the bartender once she hands him his receipt, letting out a small sigh.

“No, not at all. I think it’s a bit sweet actually. She seems like someone who could use a friend.” The bartender takes his bill and walks to the register to grab his change, leaving JJ briefly alone with his thoughts.

A friend… JJ could do that. He didn’t really have too many of those considering a majority of his time was either spent at Falcon Company or his apartment. He could consider his boys his friends, family really, but it wasn’t the same as having someone outside of your work.

JJ is brought out of his thoughts when the bartender returns with his change, holding the few bills in her outstretched hand.

“Keep it darlin’, least I could do for you keepin’ me company.” The bartender grins, closing her fingers around the money and stuffing them into her apron pocket before giving a nod of appreciation. JJ glances around the bar and then to his watch, noting that he had been at the bar for at least four hours. His fingers drum against the countertop, humming softly to himself as he weighs his options.

Stay until closing or just give it up early and head home.

He could end the night here but what if she showed up right after he left? What if she was already here earlier and he missed her? What if—

JJ shakes his head, a few curls bouncing lightly against him. How much longer could he truly wait for Alora? He didn’t even know what her thoughts were about him after that night. With a heavy sigh he raises his hand towards the bartender, a sad smile on his lips as he grabs his jacket from the stool next to him. The bartender waves goodbye, calling out ‘see you next week?’ To which JJ gives a short nod to. He gets off his seat and makes way to the doors with ease, having gotten more used to his prosthetic leg since then.

He’s nearly halfway across the bar, shrugging his jacket on when there’s a rush of air that flows past him when the door pulls open. Something tells him to look up and he’s glad he listened to the little voice because when he does his heart nearly jumps out his chest.

Alora takes a few steps in, clear agitation on her features when she glances up and locks eyes with JJ. They blink once, twice, three times before Alora visibly lets out a huff, eyes darting around the bar in an attempt to find a different route towards her usual seating. When she can’t find one she chews on the inside of her cheek, heavily debating on just leaving.

But she’s already made eye contact with JJ who is still just standing there like a statue.

It’s when Alora turns back towards the door that he finally moves, broken out of his spell and making way to her. She’s wearing another sleeveless shirt and because of that he notices an odd patchy area on her right shoulder, the skin looking a bit disfigured. The closer he gets the more he sees and when he’s finally within range to touch her, Alora’s out the door with him close behind.

“Hey—“

He can’t help the soft gasp when Alora turns around, her pretty scarred face now colored with yellows and oranges. Instantly his eyebrows knit together, a flash of anger coursing through his chest.

“Your boss do this?” He asks in a low voice. He watches the way her blue-gray eyes float towards the sky, somehow showcasing even more of the bruising on her face.

“Mind your business.” She retorts, void of emotion but JJ can see something behind her facade. She starts walking again but JJ isn’t one to let her get away so easily. He quickened his pace and steps in front of her, holding a hand up in an attempt to get her to stop. The way her eyes narrow sends a chill down his spine but he’s willing to bet that she’s not going to hit him, not with how exhausted she looks on top of her injuries.

“I know you’re a tough lady— feel like my bones are still aching from our fight a few weeks ago but—“ Alora scoffs, effectively cutting him off. She rotates her right shoulder, dull throbs still present from that fight with Kano. She’s mostly healed, it’s just lingering bruises and slight discomfort that still reside in her.

It looks like JJ wants to reach out and touch her, use his calloused fingers to comfort her in any way he can. He can feel them twitching at his sides, itching to feel the warmth of her skin underneath his fingertips.

“Stop bothering me, you don’t know me.” She speaks up, hoping this’ll get him to stop.

“But I want to.”

JJ doesn’t know where it came from, what abruptly gave him the courage to blurt it out but it was true. He could see the minuscule changes in her expression as his statement rings in her ears and all he wanted to do was reach out and smooth his thumb over them.

“You’re an idiot for wanting that.” Alora finally says, breaking eye contact and deciding to stare at something else to avoid the piercing gaze of JJ. He feels the irritation flowing off her, like electric currents but he’s not ready to throw in the towel when she’s right there.

“Have a drink with me. Or a few… look like you could use a couple of those.” He chuckles, using it to hide the sheer nervousness that’s pouring from him. Jeremiah Jedidiah Mitchell is a confident man but something about Alora makes him feel like he’s performing a solo in front of a live audience.

Alora eyes him up and down, fingers tapping against her thigh as she ponders his proposition. She did come to the bar to get away from the base again, feeling suffocated by the stares she was still getting from her peers. Kano had gone back to treating her normal (as normal as he could) but didn’t hesitate to bring up her mistake. Alora even heard from Echo one night when the blonde was applying cream to her injuries, that they had already rescheduled another exchange but in Outworld. It made Alora peeved at how easy it was for them to fix it, the angry face of Kano appearing in her mind before bitterly asking Echo if they could change the subject.

“I’ll pay for them. Even though this ‘human garbage’ doesn't really do it for you.” He adds, lips forming a small grin as Alora finally cracks one in return.

“Fine.” She puffs out, taking one last look up and down JJ’s figure before turning and heading back to the bar. Something about the way she scanned his body made his cheeks warm up, heart buzzing in his chest like a swarm of angry bees just ready to get out.

“Are you coming or what?” She calls out over her shoulder, pulling the door open and looking at him with a raised eyebrow. JJ laughs and nods, hurrying over to Alora and taking hold of the door. He places his arm above her head, gesturing with his free one for her to go inside.

“After you, sweetheart.” He grins down at her, flashing his all too bright all too white teeth as Alora gives a short hum in response. She walks in, eyes scanning to find a decent place to sit while JJ follows.

“There good?” He gestures vaguely towards an empty table near the back and Alora nods, leading the way. As they walk past the bar, JJ makes eye contact with the bartender, who doesn’t bother hiding the ecstatic smile on her face when she catches Alora walking by. JJ grins back and points subtly at Alora, nodding back at her before returning his attention and sliding into the booth.

There’s a bit of tension at first, JJ trying not to pry about Alora’s injuries but eventually she tells him that she got in a scuffle with Kano, that it was ‘no big deal’. He opened his mouth to ask for more information but Alora had stood up and headed to the bar to grab drinks for them.

And then slowly but surely she relaxes; shoulders not quite as tense, posture going a bit slack and eyes softening the tiniest amount. Conversation lacks at first but that was okay with JJ, he didn’t mind the lack of words, he was happy to just be sitting there next to her and be in her company.

But with every drink that passes she puts a little more effort into her answers, adding another sentence after finishing one and then soon she’s asking him questions. JJ swears his heart grows a few sizes when he realizes that she’s comfortable, opening the door just enough for him to peek in and see a glimpse of her true self.

“Wait you’re banned from—“

“Yeah.” Alora groans in annoyance, swirling leftover alcohol in her cup before downing it. She clicks her tongue, glancing at JJ with an unimpressed face. “Won a plush though.”

JJ snickers, shaking his head and lifting his own glass to his mouth. He takes a sip and smacks his lips, turning his body a bit more towards her.

“Yeah but you dented the machine.” He adds with a raised eyebrow, laughing again when Alora waves her hand dismissively.

“That machine was trying to rob me of my very well deserved prize. I think I deserved a little compensation.” She brings her index and thumb finger together, leaving the tiniest amount of space in between them.

“Oh you think you deserved it, huh?” He teases, feeling a bit more confident in trying his luck at flirting with her. She very smugly shrugs, glancing at the bar and debating on getting another drink. JJ takes the moment to look at her, a tender smile growing as he stamps her profile into his mind a little bit more. He doesn’t even realize how hard he’s staring until Alora looks at him, puzzlement crossing her face.

“Something on your mind, cowboy?” She calls out, trying to ignore the flips in her stomach.

“You’re so pretty…” He murmurs, a gentle tilt of his head. His words hang in the air for a second, Alora’s eyes growing from his compliment while her cheeks start to warm. He seems to snap out of his daze, heat rising to his face as he laughs awkwardly and puts a hand to the back of his neck.

“Sorry I uh… didn’t…”

Get a hold of yourself, Jeremiah. Can’t even control your words after a few drinks?

He doesn’t remember being this nervous a few weeks ago when they were chatting on his truck but then again maybe it was the dautho numbing his senses. He clears his throat, breaking eye contact and suddenly feeling as if the rest of the entire bar was staring at his fumble.

“It’s fine.” The soft tone of her voice nearly startles JJ, not expecting such a delicate response from her. He trails his gaze back to her, finding her fiddling with her glass and passing it between her fingers. The corner of his lips quirk up, fingers tapping lightly on top of the table.

“Okay, okay good. I’m glad. Because you are, you know? You’re—“

Jesus Christ Jeremiah, pull yourself together!

“Yeah.” He ends it, laughing and going back to rubbing the back of his neck. Alora chuckles, quietly but it’s loud enough for him to hear it over the music and multiple conversations going throughout the bar.

“Well don’t get shy on me now, old man.” Alora rests her cheek on her fist, smirking at JJ who now seems lost at what to say now. Another nervous chuckle from him, sitting up straight and rotating his body to face her once more.

“I ain’t shy, woman.” He remarks, scoffing and crossing his arms over his chest.

“Can’t be shy in Falcon Company.” He adds with a playful grumble.

The once pleasant smile on Alora’s lips slowly sinks away, replaced with that expressionless face that JJ had just started to forget about. Alora runs her tongue over her teeth, sitting up straight and clearing her throat. She feels like a fool now, the reminder of him being on the complete opposite side of the law hitting her like a baseball bat.

“Yeah. Falcon Company.” She says with a cold tone, her demeanor shifting right in front of JJ’s eyes and he doesn’t know what to do. He’s wondering what exactly went wrong when it clicks in his head.

“Wait—“ He mutters, standing up and latching onto the back of the booth to steady himself.

She stands up and scoots out of the booth, bidding JJ goodnight with a tip of her head and walking towards the exit. He throws a few bills on the table and slides out the booth, hurrying as best he can to catch up with her. He makes eye contact with the bartender, shock on her face and her eyes scanning back and forth between the two of them.

“Wait, when can I—“ His arm extends out to grab onto hers but quickly retreats for fear of overstepping his boundaries. Alora immediately stops in her tracks and spins to face him, her face now sour as if she just bit into a lemon.

“Don’t,” She says curtly. JJ knows what it means, he’s heard it a few times before and it was never followed by anything good.

“This cannot be a routine.” Alora continues, looking straight into his eyes as she prepares to say what’s been on her mind the moment she stepped into the bar tonight. She knew she had to stop it here before she let it proceed any further.

“You’re Falcon Company, a technical enemy of mine. I’m Black Dragon. This,” She gestures between the two of them with her finger, the dark red polish he had noticed throughout the night, vaguely reminding him of his truck.

“Cannot happen. Whatever this is— was? It can’t happen.” There’s a firm tone set in her voice but JJ can tell there’s something else laced beneath it.

Doesn’t hurt him any less though.

“Look sweetheart,” But he doesn’t get to finish his sentence because Alora turns and makes her way out the bar, pushing open the wooden door and letting it slam loudly behind her. He does his best to get to her, shoving the door with more force than necessary and nearly tripping onto the ground when it gives away.

“Alora!”

That makes her stop, her auburn braids whipping as she spins to face him. There’s clear agitation on her face but JJ doesn’t care, he has to talk to her and try to level with her.

“Please! Just—“ He finally reaches her, shaking his head to get rid of the dizziness from all his drinking and sudden movement.

"I have never met a girl like you--" JJ stumbles over his words as her ice cold eyes stay hardened, "I know— I know that the people movin' the pieces on the board want us to hate each other, but I don't want that!"

“Once again, you don’t know me. And it doesn’t matter what you want, JJ. This shit is dangerous for the both of us and I am not going to risk my life for you.” The harshness in her voice doesn’t scare him, having been in countless dangerous situations due to his occupation. No, what scares him is how much he wants to keep talking to her and how genuinely fearful he is to have her slip through his fingers.

“I wouldn't let anything happen—“ He mumbles, trying to quickly think of something more convincing to say.

Alora scoffs, almost mockingly. “You think I need you to protect me?"

"No! I mean, of course not, but— we, I could be careful. We don't have to meet at the bar.” He’s practically begging at this point, stepping an inch closer to Alora without really knowing it.

"Why do you want to meet with me so badly anyway?" She asks. The question lacks anger or malice and she shakes her head with the barest hint of pity present before it disappears.

JJ opens and closes his mouth multiple times, shrugging and trying to convey something he doesn’t even know the answer to.

“This ends here. Goodnight.” Before JJ can even get another word out she’s already walking off, small clouds of dirt trailing behind her every footstep. He watches her until he can’t no more, her figure getting smaller and smaller.

It’s when she’s completely out of sight that he recognizes her scent as cucumber and melon.

——-

Alora finally makes it back to base, her conversation with JJ playing over and over in her head. Why the hell was he so insistent on continuing to talk? Fucking ignorant, foolish, old—

“Hey sweetheart!”

Alora doesn’t even bother hiding the face of disgust when she hears Jesse Geller calling out to her. She looks up to her left to see him speaking with Kano, the Aussie giving a short nod to her. She makes a vague gesture of a hello back before continuing her way to her room. She hears Jesse quickly utter something to Kano before he trots to her, his boots scraping against the cement floor and Alora so badly wants to rip them off and chuck them at his head. Jesse stops in front of her, whistling when he takes in the state of her bruised state.

“Now what happened to this pretty face of yours, darlin’?” His faux concern has her rolling her eyes, arms crossing over her chest. Jesse steps an inch closer, Alora taking a step back from him.

“Mind your damn business, Geller.” Jesse puts his hand over his heart, feigning hurt and pretending to hiss in pain.

“Girly got a lesson taught to her. Ain’t that right, love?” Kano’s voice booms across the room, reminding Alora that he was still there and watching the interaction. There’s only so many times she can roll her eyes before they get stuck in the back of her head.

“Fuck you, you got your fucking materials didn’t you?” She calls back, brushing past Jesse and trying to end the conversation. Jesse chuckles, swiveling his head to keep watching her.

“Lesson? Kind of lesson?” Jesse asks, an odd almost playful tone in his voice. Alora takes a moment to compose herself, wondering if he’ll go away faster if she plays along.

“Screwed over a deal.”

“Deal? How?”

“Socked a guy at the bar.”

“And how’d that—”

“Video.” She cuts him off, answering quickly to just get the hell out of there.

There’s an unusual expression on Jesse; curiosity but something else. Something that told Alora he wasn’t as surprised as he should’ve been.

“Video, huh?” He asks, the corner of his lips twitching. She narrows her eyes at him, opening her mouth to say something but Kano cuts her off.

“Oi, quit yankin’ her chain, Geller.” Kano’s laugh is mocking, enjoying the scene playing out in front of him.

“Boss showed me the video, sugar.” Jesse remarks with an arrogant grin.

“Oh ver a comer mierda.” She turns and leaves them behind, her fuse already nearing its end by the time she turns left and disappears down a hallway. She can hear Jesse’s laugh, Kano’s mixing a few moments later and for a split second she wishes she stayed at the bar to keep on talking to JJ.

———-

Echo: @roofgeese

Jesse/JJ: @chadillacboseman

Oh ver a comer mierda: Oh go eat shit